For the Love of a Jarl
by mossywind
Summary: When the two first met, he knew that she was unfit to be a symbol for the people. But with time, could he change this? Balgruuf wants to teach Mia, the inexperienced, naive Dragonborn, what it takes to be feared and respected, but that's not all he will teach her. Eventual Balgruuf/F!DB.
1. Chapter 1

How had a girl like this escaped Bleak Falls Barrow, unharmed and safe? Not that Balgruuf wished for her failure, but as he assessed her form, now sitting at his dining table, he wondered how such a girl could survive a draugr-infested crypt. She couldn't have been barely over seventeen or eighteen years old, and by the Gods, was she _frail_. A frail Imperial that barely stood at his chest height, and yet he was contemplating making her _his_ thane. He wouldn't hear the end of it from Proventus.

After her return, he had sent Irileth on her way towards the guard's watchtower, after the sighting of a dragon. Hesitantly, he had welcomed her to dine at his table before sending her off to where Irileth went.

He watched, amused, as the girl hurriedly ate her venison stew, as if it was going to be taken from her any second. He noticed that she ate very properly, and he couldn't help but wonder where the girl came from, or what her name was. She was the mysterious stranger that retrieved the Dragonstone for his court wizard. After he was done eating the finely-prepared lettuce on his plate, he opened his mouth to speak to her.

"What is your name?" He asked politely.

"Mia, my lord."

"And from where do you hail?" He asked her, a curious expression planting itself on his normally serious, unmoving face.

"Cyrodiil, my lord." She replied, with a small voice.

"Speak up, girl." He commanded, and she did so.

"Cyrodiil, my lord." She repeated, with a slightly louder voice.

"What brings you to Skyrim, Mia?" She seemed kind of shocked when he used her name, but she answered nonetheless.

"I was visiting a family member, my lord. When I crossed the border, the Imperials ambushed me, and mistook me for a Stormcloak sympathizer." She answered.

"And are you? A Stormcloak sympathizer, that is." Balgruuf cocked an eyebrow in curiosity.

The girl hesitated to answer the question, unsure of where Balgruuf's loyalty lied. He imagined that she was hesitant to answer because she thought the wrong answer would land her in a dungeon. Smart thinking, but unnecessary nonetheless. When she was taking too long to answer, he abruptly stopped eating and looked at her. She was poking at the food in her bowl, and completely avoiding the question.

To reassure her, he stated, "You don't have to answer the question. My loyalty lies with Whiterun, neither Tullius nor Ulfric."

"I hail from Cyrodiil, my lord. Naturally, I hold allegiance with the Empire. I do not begrudge them for mistaking me for a Stormcloak soldier. But I would be lying if I hadn't felt slightly betrayed. My family were Legionnaires, lord." She said.

"Outside of this keep, it would be wise not to speak of your Imperial origins or sympathies. Leave that in Whiterun. Or else you'll end up a corpse in Windhelm." He warned her. It wasn't his intention to frighten her, but it was true. Ulfric didn't tolerate any Imperial sympathizers in or near his city.

"Yes, my lord. That is why I did not want to tell you."

"Do not hide secrets from your Jarl. If I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it." He stated. "I see you are finished with your meal. I would see you at Irileth's side within the hour. Meet her at the watchtower, outside of the city. Stay safe, girl. I don't want you to be dragged back here headfirst."

"Yes, my lord. Thank you for letting me dine with you.." She got up from her seat, bowed, and then made her way to the door. He hoped she would survive this dragon, if it showed up. She was too young and fair to die.

He stared at her form as she left his keep, and shaking his head, he sent a silent prayer to the Nine that she would return alive. Proventus took his place next to his Jarl, pouring himself a bottle of Tamika, imported from Cyrodiil.

"So, what did I miss?" Proventus asked his Jarl.

"I'm afraid I have sent that poor girl to her death, Proventus." Balgruuf took a sip of wine from his goblet.

"Perhaps it's for the best. Whiterun is a much healthier place without little girls prancing about using their spells." Balgruuf rolled his eyes at Proventus' apathy towards the well-being of the common people. What a slimy man he was.

"Know your place, Proventus. Ignoring the needs of commoners does not make you superior. Do your job as my advisor, or I will find someone else who can." He stated.

"Of course." The meal went on as his children and Hrongar joined them. The table ate in silence, anxious for Irileth's return.

* * *

The next time he saw her was later that night. Irileth returned before the girl, and when he did not see Mia behind her, he suspected that she had been killed. But then Irileth informed him that she was taking a break and had gone into Arcadia's shop. Yes, he would absolutely and positively make her his thane. After all, she appeased Farengar and helped save his city. She deserved a reward.

When she returned that evening, she barely talked, her brown eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Even Balgruuf had trouble seeing this girl was the fabled Dragonborn of legend. The Divines must really enjoy torturing adolescent girls by making them their chosen hero. He felt pity for the girl, she had a real destiny to fulfil now. He gave her his protection and made her his thane for saving his city. He wasn't surprised when she asked what a thane was. He explained it to her that guards would now respect her, and she would be able to purchase a house in his hold.

Mia left Dragonsreach with mumbled goodbyes and farewells. And life continued just as ever. He heard many rumors of the Dragonborn after that. A few, he was not entirely pleased with. The Dragonborn abandoned her duties as Dragonborn and did not visit the Greybeards when she was called for. She instead chose to close herself up in Winterhold, at the college.

Farengar still spoke favorably of the Dragonborn who had been gone for almost three months now. Farengar was only happy that a fabled hero of legend was a magic user, like himself. But like most, Farengar was disappointed in the Dragonborn for not being the hero that people desperately needed. He often complained that this was the problem with Skyrim's youth, that young people were too lazy to carry out their duties. Balgruuf rolled his eyes and dismissed him for that. Farengar was not old enough to speak like that. He was still a member of Skyrim's youth.

Unlike most, Balgruuf was not angry with the Dragonborn. Disappointed, yes, but he could understand her fear of completing her prophecy as the Dovahkiin. The fate of the world was resting on her shoulders.

For Balgruuf, life went on as usual. The civil war between the Stormcloaks and Imperials continued, and very soon, Balgruuf would need to choose a side in the war. He disliked Ulfric, and believed that Ulfric was using Talos worship as an excuse to rise to power. Having thought that, Ulfric was an intelligent man. But Balgruuf had already chosen Tullius, in his mind. Skyrim needed the Empire. Skyrim relied on trade, protection, and money. Whiterun relied on it, being the trading hub of Skyrim. The future of Whiterun depended on the Empire, and so the Empire, he would choose. But not yet, not until he must make the important decision. Until war was on his doorstep, he would maintain neutrality in the war.

When two more months passed, the Dragonborn still did not show up in Whiterun, or High Hrothgar, for that matter. Finally, General Tullius sent a courier with a message. It stated that it was time for Whiterun to choose a side in the war. Balgruuf wrote a long letter explaining his loyalty, and Whiterun's loyalty to the Empire, and agreed to stationing Imperial soldiers in the city. Now, the threat was real. And the fate of Whiterun rested in the hands of General Tullius' so far intelligent and meticulous planning.

While the Stormcloak army was fast approaching Whiterun, the Imperial militia stationed itself within Whiterun's walls and outer defenses. While the Stormcloak army that was attacking Whiterun numbered 700, the Imperials stationed there numbered 400, with the help of 50 or so of the Whiterun guard. And when the Stormcloaks finally appeared outside of Whiterun, the Imperials were ready. The drawbridge was raised, and siege weapons were readied. And what the Imperials slightly lacked in numbers, they made up for in strategy and tactics. The Stormcloaks were not prepared for a siege, only open field combat. 700 good men would be put to rest on this battlefield. And this was one of many Stormcloak failures to come. This wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last. The Stormcloaks lost that day, the Imperials barely losing 20 men to the battle. Today was an example of what the Stormcloaks would have to be fighting, and Balgruuf pitied them for not being ready for it. He wondered why they hadn't surrendered yet. Soon, the Thalmor would become involved, and that would surely mean that the war was over. The army of 60,000 Imperials and 80,000 Dominion militants against Ulfric's 20,000 Stormcloaks; Ulfric couldn't stand a chance, and he couldn't afford to lose any more men.

And while the Civil War was closely coming to an end, the Dragonborn continued to lock herself in Winterhold, choosing to stay out of both politics and war. But on one afternoon, he overheard a rumor that she was on a short trip to Skingrad, and wouldn't return for another month. He supposed that Skingrad was where she was raised, and perhaps she was visiting her family there. After all, he couldn't blame her for not wishing to stay cooped up in Skyrim's unforgiving tundra. But as his thane, it was her responsibility to keep in touch with her Jarl, but then again, she was ignorant of Nord customs. He could forgive her for that. After all, she did save his city from the dragon, Mirmulniir. How that was possible, he had no idea. She must've been a well-studied mage indeed, for she lacked both the strength of a warrior, and the physique. He remembered her as a tiny, frail Imperial with dark hair, dark eyes, and pale olive skin. She was pretty, but very quiet, and very odd.

Over the next month, General Tullius was planning to take Riften from the Stormcloaks. Riften was an important trade hub for Skyrim, as its location made it very valuable in the war. Tullius doubted the importance of both Dawnstar and Winterhold, as both were minor holds that had lost their value over the past few decades. The inevitable assault on Windhelm was near, so near that the residents of Skyrim could taste the tension in the air. Ulfric was losing, and fast. When a couple of weeks passed, Tullius ordered the attack on Riften. It was a difficult choice, but a choice he was forced to make nonetheless. It was time for he and his comrades to return to Cyrodiil, and he would speed up the process in whichever way he could. Riften finally belonged to the Imperials, and now Ulfric's influence was apparent only throughout the Northern regions of Skyrim. Winterhold, Dawnstar, and Windhelm were the only holds that were loyal to him, and even they were losing hope that he could win this war. Many of the peasants and common folk were starting to pull out of the war and begin to side with the Imperials, for their own safety. Such was the way of war.

All the while, the Dragonborn was still in Cyrodiil, and he hadn't heard from her in over six months. His mind often wondered whether she would appear, and perhaps stand up to becoming the hero that the people of Skyrim needed. But he was soon losing hope, as another month passed. She returned to Skyrim, and had gone straight to Winterhold, with her comrades in robes. Perhaps she was studying Alduin, perhaps she was studying her duties as Dragonborn, but more than likely, she was hiding. He couldn't really blame her there.

Another month passed. No sign of the Dragonborn.

Tullius was finally ready to attack Windhelm, and take down the rebellion where it started. Ulfric had little to no chance of defending his city, or his life, for that matter. He and his rebellion were soon going to be nothing but words written on parchment. A thought, a dream, that would never become reality. King Inwyn of Alinor ordered soldiers from Valenwood and Elsweyr to station themselves outside of Windhelm, to help the Imperial army. And soon, the Stormcloak rebellion was destroyed. Ulfric Stormcloak was dead, and as was Galmar Stone-Fist. Now that the civil war was over, Skyrim was once again working itself up to once again being a stable, reliable country for the Empire. A new High King was soon to be chosen, and no doubt be wed to the widowed Elisif. Such was the way of politics. Wed a beautiful, widowed woman to an old, wealthy nobleman, and that was that.

While the Dragonborn was still absent, the Thalmor began building embassies throughout Tamriel, and had begun building one near Whiterun, ensuring that another Nordic rebellion was impossible. For once, the Empire was stable, almost. The impending threat of Alduin still loomed over the people of Tamriel, and likely wouldn't disappear anytime soon.

Until Whiterun received an unexpected visitor. Mia had come back to Whiterun, after almost nine months. She had been in the hold for over a week now, with Arcadia, in her alchemy shop. From what the townspeople say, and Farengar, who absolutely dotes on the girl, she has a knack for all things arcane, especially Alchemy and Restoration. Balgruuf supposed both fields could be useful to the Dragonborn.

On one evening, she came to Dragonsreach, to deliver some alchemical ingredients to Farengar. She said nothing to anyone else in the palace, leaving Irileth and Proventus wide-eyed and a bit furious. Though neither of them were well-acquainted with the Dragonborn, they were both furious with her avoidance of her prophetical destiny. Balgruuf dismissed both Irileth and Proventus away, with a wave of his hand, and set his eyes on the Dovahkiin.

* * *

"Dragonborn." He called out to the girl who was sneakily trying to make her way out of Dragonsreach.

She turned towards him slowly, as if she was a child that had been caught stealing from the cookie jar. The girl had cut her hair a bit, from what he noticed. It was now falling a little above her breasts, compared to it previously going down her mid-back. And by the Gods, she looked tired. Below her eyes, she had dark gray, almost purplish circles. And her light olive complexion looked sallow and pale. He would offer her dinner and a place to sleep tonight, he didn't know if he could deny her either of those things, seeing as she looked as if she dug herself out of her grave.

"Yes, my Jarl?" She asked, in a small voice. She had a slight Southern Cyrodiilic accent that remained, even though she had been a resident of Skyrim for almost a year.

"Come closer, girl." Balgruuf had not meant for his voice to sound so hostile, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly angry at the young girl. He looked her over again when she was at the steps in front of his throne.

He saw her eyes roam over his form, and was certain she was intimidated. Good. Perhaps she'd pay close attention to his words. He looked down at her, a disappointed expression planted on his face; like a father scolding a petulant child. Except this girl did not even closely remind him of his children. Nor did he want her to.

"I know you've been in Winterhold for the majority of your time here. And it is not my business to ask why. But, as Jarl of Whiterun, I am your Jarl when you are in my hold. And it is my concern when you do not return here for months, almost a year. And while you were in Winterhold, Skyrim was in chaos, and the war has ended. You have yet to do your duties and travel to High Hrothgar. I am fairly disappointed in you, Dragonborn." Balgruuf said in a stern tone.

"Please, sire, I've only been studying with the mages in Winterhold. I am not a Nord, nor do I wish to follow on the path of being a hero for them. Everywhere I go, I am scorned and laughed at because I am Dragonborn, but not a Nord. The people I am meant to harbor respect from are the people that laugh at me. Why should I be their savior, my lord?" She asked. He was pleased that she answered honestly. He didn't like sugarcoaters.

"Then you must be the one they respect. We all have destinies, and yours is far from normal. I am speaking to you as not a Jarl, but as a man. I was young once, like yourself. And all I wished to do was rebel against my parents, to go out and see the world. But as I got older I realized that I have a duty to do. I owe a duty to the people of Whiterun, and as their Jarl, I protect them and rule them. There is no Jarl in all of Skyrim who would go to certain lengths to protect their hold as I would." He told her. "Now, to the point. There is no other, like yourself, on the face of Nirn. There is no other with your destiny. Listen to those words, and translate them wisely. Whatever you choose to do with your life is far from my business, and I cannot control what you do with your power. I can, however, hope that you do what is right. For yourself, and for those around you." He finished his speech, and drank a sip of wine from his goblet.

"I went to Winterhold to think, my lord. I'd no idea what to do with this new information given to me. I was someone else. I wasn't Mia. I'm never Mia anymore. Just the Dragonborn." He nodded in agreement.

"But you will always be Mia. As I am always Balgruuf, even though the people choose only to see me as just another ruler, another wealthy man." He stated. He felt a need to protect this young girl, even though she disappoints him so. "As always, you are welcome to dine with my court and I tonight. I expect you to come to dinner, Dragonborn."

"Yes, sire." She answered quietly, and dismissed herself.

Balgruuf's children could be heard in the background, probably bickering over each other's toys. The servants could be heard cooking in the kitchen chambers, gossiping amongst themselves, of the Dragonborn, doubtlessly. The old women gossiped about any visitors that came through nowadays, especially since the stationing of Imperial soldiers in the hold. There were no secrets in Whiterun. If one bad-kept secret reached a servant's ear, the entire hold would know of it.

"You're inviting her to dinner, my Jarl?" Irileth asked him. Balgruuf would've been angry at anyone else who eavesdropped, but not Irileth. Everything she did, she did for him. He respected his old friend, even if she could be a bit too paranoid.

"Yes. She is my Thane. She is a member of this court, and she looks like she just walked out of a plane of Oblivion. I'm offering her food and a place to sleep. Temporarily, of course." He assured her.

A courier came through the doors of Dragonsreach just then, stopping before Irileth. Irileth, of course, had her sword drawn, her eyes glowing fiercely at the sight of the could-be intruder. Balgruuf scoffed, but ignored her behavior. The boy couldn't have seen more than 20 winters.

"What brings you to Dragonsreach, boy?" Irileth asked in a condescending tone.

"A m-message for the Jarl, my lady." The boy said. Balgruuf resisted the urge to chuckle. Irileth could frighten a Daedric Prince.

"Anything that can be said to the Jarl can be said to me, boy. Spit it out." She spat.

"I have orders to speak with the Jarl directly. It's about the new High King. The Moot has chosen, my lord." The boy said. Balgruuf was impressed. The boy hadn't wet himself yet.

"Irileth. It's fine. Let the boy pass." Balgruuf commanded, and Irileth did as her lord commanded and moved away. Though she continued to eye the boy carefully, like a person would a scab or a wound. She took her place next to Balgruuf.

"The Moot has chosen Jarl Igmund, of Markarth, as the new High King of Skyrim. I was sent by General Tullius, my lord, to deliver this message to you. He asks for you to come to the coronation, and the Dragonborn, as well. As a reassurance to the people."

"May I see the letter that General Tullius wrote, boy?" Balgruuf asked. The boy promptly handed him the letter as Balgruuf commanded.

 _To Jarl Balgruuf the Greater,_

 _I write to you for one purpose, and that is to inform you that the Moot has chosen a High King to rule the province of Skyrim. No longer will Skyrim be separated from the Empire. Jarl Igmund of Markarth has been chosen as the new High King, and his coronation will be on the 8th of Sun's Height. The Jarls of Skyrim have been invited, as have the Counts and Countesses of Cyrodiil. I expect you to be present, Jarl Balgruuf, as I expect the Dragonborn to be present as well, as a reassurance to the people of Skyrim. I am eager to return to Cyrodiil, and I will do so when the coronation has taken place. I will see you there, Jarl Balgruuf._

 _General Tullius_

When he was finished reading the parchment, he briefly wondered how he would coax the Dragonborn into attending a royal coronation, and the wedding of both Elisif and Igmund. She would need apparel for the coronation, and most importantly, she would need to show up. He didn't have much trouble imagining her in a dress, as she looked the part of a noble lady, she just lacked the manners and gregariousness.

The servant hurriedly fixed dinner for the court, and, to Balgruuf's surprise, Mia appeared on her own. She was no longer wearing the robes of a mage, she was now wearing a long-sleeved, white shirt with dark brown trousers and moccasins. She looked relaxed, but uncomfortable in the itchy garments. The servants set the plates, and very soon, decorated the dining table with a wide variety of foods and wines.


	2. Chapter 2

He watched as Mia's eyes widened at the wide array of foods on the table, and chuckled a bit to herself. He wasn't sure if it was the amount of food, or the food itself. He knew Nordic cuisine was much different than Imperial or Breton, but he would've thought she would be used to the hearty cuisine of Skyrim. Among the meats, there were roasted mammoth snout, grilled horker meat, grilled chicken, and roast beef. Among the vegetables, there were leek, tomatoes, and boiled potatoes. Among the deserts, there were sweetrolls, a variety of creme treats, and apple pie. He could hear her stomach growl at the sight of the dinner.

He took his place at the head of the table, and motioned towards the chair closest to him. She slowly made her way towards him, mumbling the word 'okay'.

"Don't be shy, girl. You're the Thane of Whiterun, and you're my guest. The others will arrive at any moment now, and then you can eat. You look like you haven't eaten in days." He eyed her flat stomach, and knew that she wasn't caring for herself as she should. She was in very poor health.

"Sire, I have eaten.. Just didn't get enough, I guess." She said.

"Tell me about your life in the past nine months. I am curious as to what you have been up to. Oh, and don't lie, or I'll know." Balgruuf warned.

"Hmm well, after I left here, I took a carriage to Winterhold. I was hoping to join the college there, and study. They let me join, and I began my apprenticeship there. I mostly studied in the Destruction school, but sometimes studied Restoration. That's where I spend most of my time, sire. In Winterhold. A few months ago, I hired a carriage to Skingrad, to visit my ill grandmother. I stayed in Skingrad for a couple of weeks, then stayed in the Imperial City for a few weeks to visit some of my cousins. Then I came back here, to the college, and soon after.. Well, you get the point. Soon after, I came here again. Did you like the story?" She asked, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

"Indeed. I assume one of your parents was an Imperial?" Balgruuf asked.

"My mother is an Imperial, father is half-Imperial, half-Breton. My mother is a merchant, and my father is a legionnaire. They divorced when I was young. That's why I visited the Imperial City afterwards, to see my mother and cousins." She answered.

"And are you happy that Skyrim is once again a part of the Empire? I recall you saying you owed your allegiance to the Empire, even as you were ambushed by them so long ago. What is your opinion of the Thalmor occupying Skyrim? I am interested in your view on the politics of this country that is so unlike your own." He said.

"Well.. I am very happy that Skyrim is now under the protection of the Empire once again. It will be easier to visit my family that way, and of course, it's great that all of the war is over, less lives will be lost because of it. I won't be harassed in Windhelm for not being a Nord anymore. As for the Thalmor, sire? I wouldn't know enough about it to have an opinion." She took a short breath and then continued, "I suppose it's a bad thing to ban the harmless worship of Tiber Septim. But it's not really impossible to do so.. There will always be ways to do it. I think that it definitely should be the least of Nords' worries." She answered. Balgruuf was proud of her for answering it honestly, and speaking her mind. Even though he warned her to do so.

"So you do not advocate or support the worship of Talos, as a God?" He asked, curiosity making him do so.

"Hmm, I do not oppose it either. I don't worship Talos, so I don't have any thoughts for or against it. My opinions are definitely not as radical as the Aldmeri Dominion's. But no, I don't see Tiber Septim as a God, of course he was a powerful man, but.." She hesitated to go on.

"Continue. If we all had the same opinions, imagine how monotonous the world would be." Jarl Balgruuf said to her.

"Tiber Septim was truly a tyrant. A hero for the Nordic people, but a tyrant nonetheless. He is the source of racism here in the east of Tamriel. And.. He had the child of Barenziah killed to avoid a scandal.. I guess it's just a matter of how you perceive him. In the bigger picture, he was a great man. But if you pay attention to the smaller picture, he was a tyrannical warlord. If I am allowed to ask, sire.. Do you support the worship of Talos?" She questioned him, obviously afraid that he would lash out at her for butchering his customs. Such a curious girl she was, Balgruuf thought.

"I am a Nord, of course I worship Talos. And I will continue to do so until the day I die. However, I would not start a war off of the basis of Talos worship. It was an admirable thing, what Ulfric did, but absurd and ignorant nonetheless. He believed that he could fight the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire simultaneously, and win the people of Skyrim over with the promise of Talos worship." Balgruuf paused briefly to chuckle mirthlessly, "He was a fool though. A tyrant. He cooped himself up in his palace for the duration of the war. Galmar was an honorable man. He followed Ulfric loyally, and fought valiantly to his death, unlike his king, who begged for mercy from General Tullius." He said, in a slightly condescending voice.

Hrongar and his children arrived at the dinner table on that note, along with Balgruuf's children. Afterwards, Farengar did, taking a seat beside Mia. Irileth sat at the other end of the table, near Proventus and his wife, eyeing Mia suspiciously. Hrongar looked at Mia questioningly, and then back at Balgruuf with a quizzical expression on his face.

"This is Mia, our Dragonborn, and my Thane." Balgruuf announced to all who were present, "She is a guest here in our hall tonight."

"I'm afraid I never had the privilege to meet you, Dragonborn." Hrongar said politely, not even bothering to cast his eyes on the small girl. He was too busy piling his dinner plate. "It is an honor to meet the Dragonborn of legend. Although I pictured the Dragonborn to always be a Nord, like myself. But the Dragonborn is chosen by the Nine. Not by me." She flinched at the bitterness and abruptness in his voice, and went back to eating her meal. She was not sure if she was meant to answer Hrongar- if there was an answer for him.

Dinner was tense that evening. The air was thick with distrust and hesitation. Therefore, not many spoke, with the exception of Nelkir asking Mia what kind of sword she used. When she replied, she told him she was a magic user, and his eyes lit up with fascination and excitement at the sound of that. Balgruuf was glad that _someone_ paid attention to his youngest, and oddest, son. Most of the time he was nearly invisible and avoidable when his older brother and sister were around.

The only two that chatted were Farengar and Mia, and Balgruuf was pleased to see the two getting along. When Mia mentioned her skill at alchemy, Farengar's eyes lit up in excitement at a subject he was very knowledgeable in. He could hear the two of them discussing the mystery of Nirnroot and what their purpose on Nirn was. Balgruuf just shook his head and smiled at the two normally reclusive mages who were chatting it up. It wasn't like Hrongar was afraid of a frail-bodied magic user. He was just astounded that the nine would choose her as their champion. And for what? With the dragon attacking Helgen, what was the purpose of the return of the dragons? Surely, their return meant something. And with the return of the dragons, came the arrival of the Dragonborn.

Dinner dragged on for another twenty minutes, none of the participants daring to take their leave lest they be seen as rude and spiteful towards the guest. It seemed Mia was not oblivious to her obviously unwelcoming guests, as her eyes were almost always cast down onto her plate. Balgruuf was enjoying himself, though, as it had been too long since this hall had an interesting visitor. Too long it had been since there was someone who didn't wish to discuss politics and religion. But when would be the next time Mia would show her face? A day, a week, a year? Utter unpredictability made her fascinating, along with her apparent carelessness towards her fame, infamy, and title. The people knew her as the Dragonborn who didn't take up for her responsibilities. If anything, she encouraged even more spite by not only being of Imperial and Breton heritage, but also a woman. A young woman, as well. A young woman who practised magic, and magic users were not to be trusted throughout Skyrim, according to the words of the commoners. Although his disappointment was very much there, and would linger there, he understood why she maintained neutrality in the situation. Perhaps she wanted to maintain neutrality until the civil war was over, to prevent Ulfric's discovery of her.

Either way, he could partly understand. Now that she was at his dinner table, he understood her a bit better. She was a bit shy, definitely timid, and very trusting. She was a child, albeit an older, knowledgeable child, but a child nonetheless. How truly cruel it was for the divines to choose such a champion. Although she was highly intelligent, she was obviously ignorant to the world around her, especially politics and war. She didn't quite understand the way Nordic customs were, and she definitely was oblivious to the court and how to treat them. If he had been any other Jarl, it would've been so easy to use and manipulate her, as she was completely compliant and unassertive. He was thankful that she had never slipped into the grasps of Ulfric or Igmund.

"What exactly brought you to Skyrim, Dragonborn?" Hrongar spoke, breaking the silence. Balgruuf watched her face as she found her words to answer the question. Her brows furrowed, and for a moment, he could see discomfort, probably in being called by her title, and not her given name.

"I- well, I have family here in Skyrim. Just a few cousins and my aunt, we're not exactly close but my mother wanted me to visit with them. They hadn't visited us in years, and we doubted they'd ever come all the way to Cyrodiil to visit us. So I hired a carriage to Solitude, from Skingrad. There were soldiers dressed in many furs at the border, now I know they were Stormcloaks, and they wouldn't allow us to pass. My carriage driver feared for his life, and left me out there with the Stormcloaks. I was only trying to get to Solitude.." She answered, her voice trailing off at the last part.

"And instead you became the Dragonborn of legend, to save Skyrim from devastation?" Hrongar asked. Balgruuf knew it wasn't meant to come out as malicious or judgemental, but as he studied Mia's face, he knew she had taken the question personally and that it had struck a chord inside of her. It had upset her.

"Yes, sir. That's how it went." She replied in a small voice. How submissive she was to just a tiny bit of judgement.

Balgruuf shook his head at Hrongar, and Hrongar received the message to stop interrogating the poor girl. The Nord rolled his eyes, and dismissed himself with a curt nod towards Mia, her lips curling up in a fake, but polite smile, as if to avoid further judgement from the other participants at the table. So she was not only timid, but had extremely low self esteem, and he could not help but wonder why. It didn't occur to him that she had low self esteem the first time they met, so perhaps she thought less of herself because the residents of Skyrim thought so little of her? And they voiced it openly.

Mia nervously nibbled on a small slice of cheese, avoiding the eyes of the others at the table. The children dismissed themselves after finishing their plates, and continued to play upstairs in their quarters. Farengar did not seem keen on leaving, he seemed to be enjoying himself far too much. He hardly ever had the privilege to speak with someone who wasn't a simple-minded, war-appraising Nord, and appreciated the company of a young mage who was interested in the arcane arts. But Farengar was a relatively reclusive man, and did not offer much side conversation. He was, admittedly, horrible at small talk, and this did not cater well to Mia's timidity.

"Am I excused, your brilliancy?" Farengar asked Balgruuf in a dry, sardonic voice. If it had been anyone else, he would've surely retorted. But Farengar was an intelligent, albeit rebellious, mage. Balgruuf saw him as a brother, as much of a brother as Hrongar was.

Proventus and his wife continued to eat salted, pulled pork and their brilliant, spiced wine, imported from Solitude. How Imperial they were, even when they were nestled in the center of Skyrim's Nordic customs. Whiterun was much more cultured than other holds, which was obvious if one observed its inhabitants. There were Redguards, Bosmer, Bretons, Imperials, and Altmer- all living together in harmony. He supposed that was what the Empire once looked like, before the war culturally and racially divided everyone. Although Solitude carried the reputation of being the center of Skyrim's imperial influence, Balgruuf had to argue and say that his hold competed with Solitude. Thinking of Solitude reminded him of the coronation that would be held very soon. That was another matter entirely, one that he would have to speak with Mia about. She was to appear at the coronation, as a decoration, as a reassurance to Skyrim's residents. He doubted she would decline the invitation, as she was a kind and intelligent girl.

Balgruuf finished his meal, but did not dismiss himself from the table. Mia was nibbling on a piece of bread now, occasionally taking a sip of the wine she was given. He decided that she was pretty, but not in the way that attracted most Nords. She was very thin, yet she still possessed a roundness to her face that showed her youth. But she was so very small, so delicate, too delicate to be the Dragonborn of legend. Balgruuf would wait for Proventus and his wife to return to their quarters, so that he could talk to Mia privately. And his wish came true only moments later, when Proventus left the table. Now all that remained was Irileth, Mia, Farengar, and himself. The air was less tense now, and it seemed that a weight was lifted.

"Irileth, Farengar, you may leave." Balgruuf said politely to her, the elf nodding in return as she took her leave from the dinner table.

Mia locked eyes with Balgruuf, her brown eyes meeting his own blue eyes. He knew her embarrassment from Hrongar still remained, but it was slowly waning. Her nervousness, however, was disappearing. She seemed to carry herself differently when it was only the two of them. She seemed much more comfortable when she wasn't constantly being interrogated.

"I don't want you to feel unwelcome. You are my thane, my guest, and you are welcome here any time. Do not take Hrongar's judgement of you to heart, girl. He has a hard and cold exterior, but he is a good man." Balgruuf told her.

"I apologize, my lord, I've heard his words too many times by too many people. I don't expect kindness from many people anymore. Yours is uncommonly rare and- um, very appreciated. Thank you so much, my Jarl." She stated. His gaze softened with each word she spoke, having learned that he was one of the only people that have shown her true kindness and care, even if it was a bit distant and impersonal.

"You may speak of whatever is troubling you, Dragonborn. With me, you may speak freely without fear of judgement or spite. I am an exceptional counsellor, just ask my brother and children." He chuckled to himself.

"When you say I am welcome here anytime.." Mia stopped what she was saying, seemingly unsure of what to say next. Balgruuf furrowed his brows, and was thoroughly confused.

"Yes, I have mentioned that you are welcome here anytime, Dragonborn. What of it?" He asked her, waiting for her next response.

"I do not have a place to stay tonight. I fear the inn will be far too crowded if I go there. I, well, I don't know if you'd mind, and it's okay if you say no or don't want me to. But, I-" He stopped her mid-sentence with his next statement.

"Yes, you may stay here. I have many rooms that could accommodate you. You could've simply asked, I would not have minded." He said.

"I really don't mind where I sleep. I can sleep in one of the unoccupied servant quarters. I'm so tired, I haven't slept much lately since I've been on the road." She yawned after her statement, placing her hand over her mouth while doing so. He could appreciate her kindness, but was slightly irritated by her hesitance and timidity. He could work with it though, he wanted her to come out of her shell, and embrace court life, since she would be seeing much of it as the Dragonborn.

"Nonsense, girl. You'll stay in a guest room, near my quarters. As my thane, you may stay there as long as you wish. The servants will clean up after you, though I doubt you will be making much of a mess, as clean as you look." She blushed slightly, and he knew why. She had taken that as a compliment. "But there is something else I wish for us to discuss." He waited for her retort, but there was none. So, he continued, "A courier arrived with a letter earlier this evening. The contents of the letter were written by the general. The moot has chosen our new High King as Jarl Igmund. His coronation will be held on the eighth of next month, and his marriage to Elisif will also take place within the week, I presume. The general has personally asked for your presence at the coronation. And If I were you, I wouldn't deny the general this request. It is important that you appear at such festivals, for you are nobility, after all. You will have a much more favorable reputation with Skyrim's people, as well as the Empire's. Having said all of that, I cannot force you to go. But I can ask you. Will you attend the coronation? I will, of course, be present." He stated.

"I- I will attend. Yes, I will attend. I have never met the general, do you think he will want to meet me?" She wondered.

"Of course he would want to meet you. You are the dragonborn, and your presence there will be a symbol to the people of the Empire." He noticed slight fear in her eyes then, and spoke, "do not fear, the general is a stoic man, and will likely not ask you any personal questions as most do. But I would not mind that for now. I will retire to my quarters, and I expect you to do the same when you are done with your activities." He said.

She looked to be very tired, as her eye circles were visible from his place. Her eyelashes were now fluttering faster, and he found this to most likely be due to her fatigue. She bit her lip nervously, as if she had something to say but was hesitant to do so, which unnerved Balgruuf far more than he wanted to admit.

"Come. I'll show you to your quarters personally."

She followed him at his command. He led her up to the stairs and into the personal quarters of Dragonsreach. He showed her to a medium-sized room with a large bed with a wide array of blankets, bookshelves, and a table with two chairs. He had chosen this room for its absence of furs, since sleeping with furs was probably something Mia did not fancy. She looked comfortable with the room and thanked him graciously, to which he showed a small, rare smile in return. He bade her farewell, and returned to the hall.

After he left her, he put his children to sleep, tucking his daughter in her small bed. This was something he did only on rare occasions, not offering much more than stoic fatherly affection. He wished for his children to grow up to be strong, but wise. As such, he treated them differently than most parents did their children. He treated them with care, but kept a relative distance with them. Although he wished he could be more to them than just a distant father, court business and politics often kept him busy, disallowing him precious time with his children. Ever since their mother passed away, years ago, he knew he could never replace her as their caretaker. He was an insensitive man, after all, with many duties.

When finally reaching his large chamber, he removed all decorative garments from his person until he was in naught but small clothes. He donned a large, cotton shirt and made his way over to his luxurious mattress. He moved the mass of furs out of his way, so that he could settle himself into bed.

Until he fell asleep, his mind often wandered to Mia, and her staying at his home. He genuinely felt pity towards the girl, as he wondered if she was ever offered such hospitality. He wished to help her and give her advice, such as telling her to go to the Greybeards; but it was not his place to do so. She would simply have to learn from her mistake, and he knew she would eventually go there. If guilt didn't send her up there, peer pressure would. She was a good girl, after all.

* * *

The next day went on without being very eventful. That morning, he had woke to seeing Mia talking with his court wizard. They spoke in hushed tones, both standing over a table, examining alchemical reagents, Balgruuf assumed. He scoffed at the sight of Farengar's apparent happiness. Although Balgruuf had only spoken with Mia a few times, he liked her. She was a likeable person, incapable of lashing out at people.

That day went on, Mia dismissing herself to go pick some flowers outside of the city gates. She must've gone out there per Farengar's request. When she returned, her hands were a bit red, and her face was slightly flushed from the labor. However, thankfully, her basket was full of mountain flowers and cotton. She immediately took the flora to Farengar, who handed her a small coin purse in thanks. So, this must have been a real job. He offered her gold to pick flowers for him. How typical of Farengar that was, Balgruuf thought; sending a nice girl to do manual labor for him. Balgruuf shook his head in disagreement at the sight of Farengar.

On the balcony of Dragonsreach, Balgruuf watched his children playing with wooden swords, practising battle techniques they were ignorant of. The sun was shining high in the sky, signalling to everyone that is was noon. His sons' battle instructor instructed them about holding a sword with only one hand, saying:

"Your sword will one day be an extension of your own arm. I wasn't aware that we had three arms. Now," The instructor took Frothar's hand and loosened it from its grasp on the sword, so that he was holding the sword soley in his right hand.

"But it's too heavy!" The child complained loudly.

"Do you know what is also heavy, little one?" Their instructor asked them.

"What?" Both of the boys asked.

"Carrying your injured self or your comrades on the battlefield, because you were too weak to carry a sword with your sword arm. You will learn how to grasp a sword in no time, it's very easy. I am sure that even your father had quite the trouble with it when he was being instructed."

"No way!" Nelkir said.

"Oh, yes, child. It will come to you, just be patient."

The afternoon went on like this, with servants constantly bringing out finger foods and wine for the Jarl and his children. Until someone entered through the balcony door, and he knew it wasn't a servant or Irileth. The footsteps were soft and quiet, and nervously stopped behind him.

"Dragonborn." Balgruuf stated.

"How did you know?" She asked, her voice full of surprise.

"You have the quietest footsteps in the hall, Dragonborn." He told her. "Come, sit next to an old man."

He heard her quiet footsteps walk over to sit in the small chair next to him. He noticed that she had bathed and brushed her hair, as she no longer looked as unkempt as she did earlier that day. Her hair was brushed through, the waves more tame than usual.

"You don't look that old, sir." She said quietly.

He chuckled at her innocent compliment, but instead of carrying on that conversation, he asked her a question, "Are you coming to the coronation of Jarl Igmund? I recall you saying you would last night. You didn't say yes only to appease me, did you?"

"No, no! Of course not, my Jarl. I admire the general as any Imperial should. He repaired Skyrim's alliance with the Empire.. I think I owe him this, for making it easier for me to visit with my family without being interrogated at the border. I am nervous, though.." She answered him.

"Why is that, girl?" He asked.

"What if he doesn't like me? Or what if he's unimpressed with me? I have spoken to aristocrats, but he's like, the head of the operation. I'm not sure about how comfortable I will be there. You are the only Jarl I've spoken with.. Won't they all be there?"

"Of course he'll like you. He may size you up and judge you for being a mage, but I doubt you'll give him any reason to dislike you. The general is a practical, polite man. He doesn't have time to make many enemies anymore. Besides, it will be rushed. He is very eager to return to Cyrodiil after these past two years of consistently fighting the Stormcloak army. And now, the war is over, and the Empire is at peace, for now. The Aldmeri Dominion has been appeased, and will likely not make any enemies in the meantime, until they are sure that they will win the war." Balgruuf explained to her.

"The Aldmeri Dominion will be at the coronation?" She questioned.

"Most definitely. They will not miss out on such an ordeal. It is not peace they want, only reassurance that they are under control. They will appear if not only to let the people of Skyrim know that it is in their will that they have allowed the Empire to survive." He told her. It occurred to him that she was likely ignorant of the way diplomacy worked. Just because two factions were allied, did not make them friendly to one another.

He watched as the wheels turned in her head, her brows furrowing in thought, and her eyes staring in a direction that was miles away. He knew she did not share dislike for neither the Dominion or its puppet, the Empire. But she most definitely did not understand the way diplomacy worked the way it did. Silence washed over the two, and for him, it was a peaceful, rare moment of silence. But for Mia, it was awkward and nerve-racking. She looked as if she had something to say, but the words would not come out of her mouth. He wouldn't rush her to speak what she wanted to say, but he patiently waited for the moment when she would.

"I think I'm going to visit the Greybeards tomorrow." The silence was interrupted by her small voice.

He raised his eyebrows in response. Why had she changed her mind so suddenly? He wondered briefly if it was her visit to Dragonsreach that changed her perspective. He wondered if it was his disappointment in her that fuelled her desire to fulfill her duties as Dragonborn.

"Why such a change of heart?" Balgruuf asked her.

"You've changed my mind, my Jarl." She replied.

Ahh, so it was that. For a brief moment, he felt proud of both her and himself. Her destiny could be the fate of the world, if all of the dragons had really returned. Changing her mind was something he would never forget. He smiled a fatherly smile at her, but she was far from being like a daughter to him. Very far.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week passed, being relatively uneventful. Mia had gone to High Hrothgar to meet the Greybeards, and discover her true destiny as Dragonborn. Balgruuf had not gotten the chance to tell her goodbye or safe travels. Hopefully she would return unscathed and unharmed. The steps to High Hrothgar were perilous, after all. But she carried herself lightly, and if she was as smart as he suspected she was, she would use that to her advantage.

Tailors had arrived, in order to fit the needs of Balgruuf and his children, in preparation for the coronation. Even Irileth would be forced to wear a dress, which did not suit her callous image. He often scoffed at the thought of Irileth actually wearing formal attire. The tailors were sent by general, with orders to fit the Jarl, his children, shield, and the dragonborn. And since the Dragonborn was not there, Balgruuf allowed his female servants to approximate the exact fittings of the Dragonborn. When the tailors had the correct fittings, he instructed them on what colors she would be wearing. The neck would be low-cut, as any aristocratic female would have. Seven dresses would be tailored for the Dragonborn, all attire being paid for by the general. Seven dresses, for seven days of flattery and cotillions. Such was the way of nobility.

For Irileth, he chose earthy tones, as he knew she would not feel comfortable in flattering dresses, and nor did she care for the wandering eyes of men or judgemental women of court. How typical it was for the Empire to prepare for such an event four weeks prior. If this had been a Nordic celebration, there would've been little to no preparation. But he knew Tullius was not exactly anticipating the coronation or the wedding. He was merely going through with the will of the Thalmor. And though Elenwen, Ondolemar, and the rest of the leaders would be there, there would be forced niceties between the Imperials and their allies, and the Nordic Jarls who were still in favor of Talos worship. Although most, if not all Jarls, with the exception of Siddgeir, supported Talos worship. The Jarls of the Pale, the Rift, Eastmarch, and Winterhold had all been replaced with Jarls who were hand-chosen by Tullius and Elenwen themselves.

Eastmarch's Jarl was now Brunwulf Free-Winter, a man who would liberate the Grey Quarter and allow Argonians into the city of Windhelm. Because of him, there would be less racial turmoil, which meant less rebellions, and less battles. Brunwulf was a veteran of the Great War, but unlike many others in his place, he never had a burning hatred for either side. He was a just man, and his earldom would change the people of Windhelm forever.

In the place of Skald the Elder, Brina Merilis was chosen as the Jarl of the Pale. Brina was a fair woman, and a woman in favor of order and justice. For this, she was an obvious candidate for earldom. As she fought in the Great War, she had seen exactly what would happen if the Empire grew any weaker than it currently was. She was a woman who believed that the Empire could grow stronger again, with time, and overthrow their Elven overlords.

Winterhold, whose Jarl was formerly Korir, a magic-hating bigot, was replaced with Kraldar. Kraldar was an elderly man, but a stern man who believed in diplomacy and treated the neighbors he disliked with kindness. Unlike his predecessor, he wished to have better relations with the Arch-Mage of the college. It was this, that made him an eligible candidate for earldom.

And finally, Maven Black-Briar, the new Jarl of the Rift. Although her predecessor was kind and fair, she was not. She backed the Thieves Guild, and that would likely be her outlet for "justice". Although a very wealthy and intelligent businesswoman, Balgruuf believed her to be unfit for a ruler. Only those with wealth and influence would be able to inflict "justice". The poor and common would be oppressed in Riften, the Thieves Guild once again have the upper hand. Corruption would be rampant in Riften, as it has been for ages. Only this time, its Jarl would not attempt to make any moves against the corruption that ran rampant. The only logical reason that Maven would've been chosen for earldom was her wealth, and her business. This would make for better business with the Empire, as Black-Briar Mead was in high demand throughout Tamriel.

With the exception of Maven Black-Briar, Balgruuf agreed with the new choices of Jarls. The less there was of Jarls opposing each other, the quicker the "peace" could be throughout Skyrim.

For another week, he began to wonder if Mia really was going to return as she said she would. She had been gone for almost two weeks, which was more time than it took to get to High Hrothgar and back. But his fears proved to not be justified, as Mia returned to Dragonsreach later that week. She had a few visible, small cuts on her hands that would heal in no time. Her hair was pulled off of her face in a long ponytail. She was sweating profusely on her forehead, probably from the heat of summer outside.

Balgruuf ordered some servants to heat up some bathwater for her, as a bath was what she needed more than anything right now. After an hour, she returned from bathing, wearing a clean robe given to her by Farengar. Her hair was already starting to dry, and he noticed that she had rubbed ointment on the cuts that marred her hands. It was around noon, time for lunch, and he invited her to accompany him to the balcony of Dragonsreach to eat with him. Her skin was a slightly darker shade of olive than it had previously been, most likely from being in the sun for so long when it was hot.

"How did your pilgrimage go, Dragonborn?" Balgruuf asked her when they were both settled. They had maneuvered their chairs so that they were both facing each other.

"I had to stop and ask for help with directions constantly. I took a carriage to Ivarstead, which only took two days to get there. Then, I stayed in Ivarstead for two days to pick up the courage to actually walk the steps. It took every ounce of my being to walk up there." She nervously laughed, but continued, "I went up there, spoke with their leader, and then their **real** leader, Paarthurnax, who turns out to be Alduin's brother and former second-in-command. I didn't know the name Alduin, until he mentioned the World-Eater, Akatosh's firstborn son. They then sent me to retrieve Jurgen Windcaller's horn, to which I had to ask a couple of my fellow scholars to accompany me for. But, um, it turned out not to be there. Instead there was just a note given to me by someone who stole the horn. It was like they knew I would be sent there." Mia explained.

"May I see the note, Dragonborn?" Balgruuf asked.

"Of course, my Jarl." She fiddled with her pockets, and pulled out a letter that was folded into a small square. He took the letter from her hands gently, and began reading the contents of the letter:

 _"Dragonborn-_

 _I need to speak with you. Urgently._

 _Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood and I'll meet you._

 _-Signed, a friend."_

He furrowed his brows in curiosity, and read it over multiple times. He wanted to tell Mia to go to the Sleeping Giant Inn, and have a friend accompany her. The stranger could be friend or foe, but was most definitely someone who was afraid of identifying their self.

"What should I do?" She asked urgently. "How could someone possibly know I was after the horn?"

"Go to Riverwood tomorrow. It should only take an hour to get there, and it's your decision if you want to go by carriage. The road is heavily guarded now, so it's likely you won't need to worry about ambushes or wild animals. Whatever you decide to do, be on your guard. I highly advise you go to Riverwood, though. Your first objective should be to return the horn to the Greybeards, not to appease or work with this person. Return the horn immediately once you have it." He told her.

He saw fear in her eyes then, and he didn't know if he should reassure her or maintain silence and neutrality. It was in his intentions to not get too attached to people who could disappear at any moment. He reminded himself that there was no other that spoke to Mia with kindness as he did, besides her scholars at the college. The pity he felt for her returned just then, and he tried to push it away as best as he could. Servants brought out the two lunch, and they proceeded to eat in silence. The food served was some kind of clam chowder, with chunks of potatoes.

"This soup reminds me of home." She announced, scooping another spoonful of the soup into her mouth.

"In what way, Dragonborn?" Balgruuf asked her.

"Clam chowder was something we had often in my household. Skingrad was a county of vast wealth, and its food and wine represented that. Well, um, maybe not just the food and wine. It has great stone masonry as well." She corrected herself.

"You are far too young to have such a skill at the arcane arts. At what age did you begin learning, and who taught you?" Balgruuf asked her. Seeing as the girl couldn't have been older than 19 years old, he wondered how she was so skilled at her practice, yet so unskilled in other fields.

"When I was 13, my mother taught me how to conjure magelights. She is an excellent mage, very talented with the study of Alteration magic. From there, she taught me most of what I know. She never taught me many offensive spells, except flame spells. She didn't begin teaching me those until I was about 16, though. Um.. Hmm.. Well.." She stammered, trying to find her lost words. "I was always interested in knowing more. So I joined the college in Winterhold, and studied Alchemy, Restoration magic, and a few destructive spells. Enchanting is something I have yet to grasp though, my Jarl. I fear that it will take me years before I can successfully use the power of a soul gem. It just doesn't come natural to me. All else, though.. Well, it does come naturally. I am Breton, after all." She said.

"And how old are you now?" He asked.

"18, my lord." She answered.

"Farengar tells me that you are well-taught in the art of magic. Is that true?" He asked her, genuinely interested in her answer.

Her eyes lit up with pride then, for being praised at her talent. Her shy shell was gone, and replaced with a chipper version of her self, "I was taught by someone I love very much, someone who is very passionate about it. I imagine that has effected how well I have been taught. I was an only-child in my household when I lived with my mother, and her main focus was me. I learned a lot from her, and she learned a lot from the Arcane University. Um, yes, I think I was very well-taught." She answered with pride.

This was a much more likeable side to Mia, a side that probably wasn't seen much, due to the treatment she received from Skyrim's people. Balgruuf feared that he was starting to grow a friendship with the girl, a bond that he should sever very soon. Perhaps he should begin keeping a distance from someone who could die from a dragon attack, at any given moment. But then he corrected his logic, anyone could die from a dragon attack, at any moment.

"You were very hungry." He observed aloud. She smiled a small, shy smile but didn't reply. He stroked the hair on his chin in thought, imagining the pilgrimage to High Hrothgar once again. It had been twenty years since he had made the pilgrimage that every true Nord was expected to make.

He remembered the snowcapped mountain, and the 7,000 steps that led up to the peak. It sounded like such a long journey, but in reality, it only took about five hours. There were many stones that one could sit on to catch their breath when they were too tired to continue, it was not much of a feat. But what was a feat, was the devotion of those that actually completed the pilgrimage several times in their life, to pay homage to the goddess, Kyne, or Kynareth. Most Nords nowadays did not care for devout religion, which was why the Talos worship crisis was not too much of a crisis at all. Many Nords swore by Talos, and many of them prayed to him now and again, but religion was relatively overlooked. What was more common, was bigotry towards Argonians and Khajiit for being extremely religious.

"All I've really had lately is stale bread. That's all they eat up in High Hrothgar. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Just stale bread and water." She said.

"That does not surprise me. The Greybeards live very prude, monotonous lives. Many of them haven't had a full meal since their youth. Pity to them. Although they get to live their lives on a spectacular mountain cap. I made the pilgrimage when I was a lad, you know. Your reluctance to climb the 7,000 steps was new to me. But then again, you aren't a Nord. The Throat of the World has a much deeper meaning to us." He told her. He didn't mean for that to come out as bigoted or racist, but it sounded a bit scolding nonetheless.

Mia was apparently very well-versed in small talk, and the two talked naturally. She was honest, and answered all of his questions like so. He decided that he liked her gentle company, as genuine kindness was rare in court. She ate her meal slowly, savoring every spoonful that entered her mouth.

"Will you take anyone with you to Riverwood?" He asked her.

"No, I'll go alone. I need to be alone more. If I continue being a coward, how will I ever go through with my destiny?" She asked. But it wasn't a question that was meant for answering. It was rhetorical, and she was correct. She would never be able to survive if she couldn't stand being alone in a town for one day.

"And what is that destiny?"

"To slay Alduin.." She answered in such a small voice, he had to strain to hear it clearly.

Alduin. Alduin, the Devourer of Worlds, Firstborn of Akatosh, Nordic god of destruction. A name that carried, a name that demanded both respect and fear; and whose name was never mentioned in any Imperial record books. Only Nords were aware of Alduin. Nords still feared the being who was sworn to one day return and devour the world as he said he would, thousands of years ago. For many years, the only reminder of Alduin's existence were his Dragon Priests that remained in the world of the living, guarding their tombs until the day that their draconic overlords would return and liberate them. Besides that, Alduin was never mentioned in society. People kept their heads down when Alduin was mentioned in conversation, maintaining a hushed tone lest they be victims of the dragon god.

He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and stroked his beard. He could say many things, yet he knew none of them could be received as comforting or helpful.

"On any other occasion, I would have much to say. But on this occasion, I don't. You will remain under my protection. You may sleep in my halls, eat at my table, and come to me for advice or conversation. You're still ignorant of court life and what will be expected of you as my Thane, and as the Dragonborn. It is in my best wishes that you return here to attend the coronation with my people and I. I will be very disappointed in you if you didn't." He said.

* * *

For a week, life went on as usual. Mia had written to him, stating that she would be returning something to High Hrothgar and would return within the week. The coronation would be held in a 10 days, and it was time to prepare for it. Many of the Jarls were expected to arrive around three days early, so Balgruuf would have to leave in about five days. He couldn't wait for Mia, and he wouldn't, if she didn't arrive on time. But she arrived two days later, and he thanked the gods. Unpunctual _and_ unpredictable was she.

She arrived that evening, her hair unkempt and wild. Though it still framed her face well and she was not hideous. She was too fair to ever become hideous. She didn't look dirty, she just looked weary and underfed. The first thing that he offered her was water and bread, which was ironic because that's probably all she was given at High Hrothgar. Over the next few days, Balgruuf talked to Mia a lot. He discovered much about the curious, young girl, and began to admire her. She was young and new, but she was still shy. She blushed often while talking with him, and he decided it was not out of pure embarrassment, but attraction. She found him handsome, and he knew this but never brought the subject up. She was a young girl who was not well-acquainted with the opposite sex, especially those that were more than twice her age. As a forty-five year old man, he found this oddly reassuring.

He taught her the basics of how to act towards nobility, and to never submit to their every whim. He also taught her how to speak with the Thalmor if they initiated conversation with her. And with the general, he told her to simply be herself, and that Tullius respected honesty and generosity over all else. The rest was just common sense and she would learn easily.


	4. Chapter 4

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Dragonborn. I am fairly unaccustomed to the traditions of Skyrim, so forgive me for not greeting you earlier. I am General Tullius, as you probably know by now. This is my wife, Silea." He nodded towards her slightly, his gaze landing on his wife before her. Balgruuf watched this exchange between the two from his seat.

"A pleasure to meet you, Dragonborn. May I say what an honor it truly is to see an _Imperial_ as the hero of the Nords. Truly, a tale worth note." The ever-aristocratic wife of the general stated.

"Indeed. I am fairly unaccustomed to the traditions of Skyrim as well. I have only been here for little more than a year. There is nothing to forgive for, General. I am happy that the war is finally over and that there will be peace. It is because of you that I can safely visit my family in the counties of Cyrodiil. Thank you for your service, General." Mia said to the general, smiling shyly to his wife as well. The exchange was less awkward and stiff than Balgruuf would've expected. Mia showed true generosity, there was no falsehood in any of her statements or expressions.

He watched on as Elenwen gave the general a foreboding expression, as well as Mia. The first emissary of the Thalmor seemingly wanted to speak with the girl, for reasons unknown to Balgruuf. The Thalmor did love keeping opinions of them very positive and hopeful. No doubt, Elenwen wished to brainwash the girl of the Thalmor's intentions in Skyrim. And no doubt, Mia would fall under the spell of elven charisma and charm. He knew she had no hatred towards the Thalmor, no hatred towards elvendom like the others in his homeland. He watched the tall and willowy figure of Elenwen make her way over to the Imperial girl. Elenwen was every inch the stoic, Altmeri ambassador, with her stern expression and serious demeanor.

"I am afraid I have not received the pleasure of making your acquaintance. You may or may not know who I am, but I am Elenwen, First Emissary and Ambassador to the Aldmeri Dominion. To the Empire and Aldmeri Dominion in Skyrim, my word is law. I have heard of your status as this _Dragonborn_ of legend, but I have no affinity towards Nordic customs as you should know. I desire to know your true name, instead, sweet girl." Elenwen elegantly stated.

"My name is Mia, my lady." She replied back to the Altmeri woman.

"I appreciate your etiquette, Mia. Rest assured that your home will be protected by my Thalmor operatives. We strive to make this land better for all. Perhaps one day we may become better acquainted? I host many cotillions at my embassy near Solitude. You would be an honored guest, dear girl." He watched as the honeyed words left the mouth of the elven woman, and the human looking up at her squirm under the superior attitude of the elf.

Mia looked at Elenwen's guards in awe, their golden armor being of a make she had never seen before, that much was obvious. Balgruuf watched for her to say something troubling, but all was said was, "It would be an honor, Lady Elenwen." Good, this was how he taught her to speak with the Thalmor. Acting meek and submissive would simply draw Elenwen's attention to the girl further, seeing a potential puppet in the naive, human girl. The ambassador was as clever as she was ruthless, however, and had most likely seen through Mia's exterior, and found the weaknesses of the girl.

The girl looked fair tonight, with her thick, dark hair being clipped up elegantly, allowing for her youthful face to be more apparent. She wore a low-cut, emerald dress that was made of chiffon and accompanied by a thin, white scarf around her arms. She would've passed as an aristocrat if not for the meek exterior that she possessed. Compared to the other women of the court, she was rather drab in her apparel. The few Altmeri women of the court wore beautiful, thin dresses made of silk, showing off their gorgeous, slender forms. Balgruuf watched on as Mia's eyes occasionally flitted back and forth from the festivities to himself, obviously feeling uncomfortable and looking for refuge. However, every time she would've had the chance to sit by him, a noble took her place.

Jarl Idgrod took her place beside him, saying nothing as she did so. She was not known for being polite or hospitable, as she probably despised festivities just as much as he did. The old woman looked impossibly bored, not even bothering to attempt to mask her distaste in the coronation. Idgrod claimed to be a mystic, to see far into the future as no one else could. The other jarls saw her as feeble and senile, her dementia being the reason she believed she could see forward into time. Balgruuf thought no different, but was not rude to the old woman.

"She has a path, Balgruuf." Idgrod began. Balgruuf looked away from the elderly woman, and rolled his eyes before returning them to her.

"Whom?" He asked, being fairly good at masking boredom and disinterest.

"The Dragonborn, Balgruuf! Don't pretend to be ignorant of what I speak of. She is the future of us, of all of us. Help her with her path, teach her to be a better killer, teach her to be the Dragonborn of old. Our fate relies on hers. The great World-Eater has returned to Nirn. Half the world knows this, but half the world doesn't know that we have a potential savior among us. Be a man, and teach her the ways. She likes you Balgruuf, far more than I do." The woman said sarcastically, hinting at her dislike of the Jarl of Whiterun.

Knowing that the conversation would take a drastic turn for the worst, he left it early, dismissing himself. He knew that Mia was fond of him, he was certain of that. He had not seen anything in her, not really. His job was to rule Whiterun and his people, not to teach little girls how to be the Dragonborn of legend. That lesson was far above his skill. He was only a man, after all. He knew that he was only person that Mia trusted, however. She had begun to become more comfortable in being in his presence, and he had learned a lot about her over the past week. Her life was not particularly interesting, coming from a middle class family in Cyrodiil. The only fantastic tales she had were those surrounding magic and its wonders. Besides her fair appearance, the only thing remotely appealing about her was her youth. She was painfully innocent in all aspects carnal and otherwise, again another reason why he was happy that she was under his wing and not anyone else's.

Of course there was the part of Balgruuf that had yearned for the company of a woman, as his wife died many winters ago. But Mia was not a woman, she was a girl, further igniting the utter wrongness of the thought of seeking her company. He was old enough to be her father, after all. No matter how innocent and dull her exterior was, he felt drawn to help the girl. Paternal or not, as of this moment, he made it his duty to protect the girl. He watched in amusement as she was flirted with shamelessly by Jarl Siddgeir. An unfamiliar feeling hit him when he saw her giggle and blush under Siddgeir's gaze, a feeling he knew was jealousy. Why had he felt this? He did not dwell on it for long.

He watched from afar as Siddgeir filled her goblet with wine, all the while Mia faltering under his very blatant desire. Siddgeir was known for debauching, rumors were often spread that he was a worshiper of Sanguine, and thus was always surrounded by wine and merriment. These rumors were most likely false, but they described the man perfectly. He was of average height for a Nord, but his build was more on the lean side. His skin was nearly always flushed from alcohol intake, his debauchery and manners being because of his rather youthful status, if youthful was a word. He was indeed the youngest of the Jarls, and the most disliked. He was, however, very well liked by the maidens. As was said by most of the other Jarls, the only thing Siddgeir was good at was drinking and fucking, creating an apathetic and often neglectful leader.

Elisif eventually saved the poor girl from Siddgeir's advances, however, engaging in conversation with her. Elisif herself was a delicate and dainty woman, similar to the Imperial she was now speaking with. The two got along well with one another, from what he could see. The late Jarl of Solitude took the younger girl by the crook of the arm, the two ladies walking over to the banquet of food. There was a variety of food available, from Altmeri sweets, to Imperial delicacies. Mia had, of course, filled her plate with Imperial delicacies, obviously reminiscent of her homeland. The Imperial delicacies consisted of garlic hummus and hardened pita bread, a small meal befitting of a rather small girl.

She left Elisif's arm then, to take her place by his side. She had a small smile on her face, possibly from the conversation she had with Elisif. Her olive skin had taken on a permanent blush since she had gotten here, from the alcohol or all of the compliments given to her. Possibly both.

"Come, take a seat, girl." Balgruuf said, patting the bench next to him.

"I am ready to go home, my lord." She said to him.

He looked back at her and asked, "Where is your home, Mia?" The question was not meant to come out as combative, but it did nonetheless.

"I.. I do not know anymore, my Jarl. A year ago, I would have said Skingrad. A few months later, I would have said Winterhold. I miss my friends at the college terribly.. May I ask if it is okay for me to leave to see them on our way back?" She asked. She was not his to command, and it was not her business he wished to pry in. He could not tell her where she belonged.

"Your decisions are your own. That is precisely why they're yours. I don't own you, you are in no way obligated to stay in Whiterun, or to play your role as Dragonborn. If you wish to hide from the world in that frozen wasteland, you may. No one is stopping you. That was my objective, impersonal opinion. Would you prefer to hear my personal one?" He questioned, continuing when she gave a small nod, "I believe your place is in Whiterun, for the time being. Everyone has a destiny, girl. Your destiny is far more important than anyone else's right now. I can't be your adviser, Mia, but I can and will look after the well-being of my people. I think you're making a grave mistake, going back to Winterhold." He explained, giving her time to ponder on his words.

He watched the gears move in her head. She was fascinating to watch when she pondered on decisions. Her eyes moved back and forth from her plate to the rest of the room in nervousness. Obviously, what he had said left her speechless, not that she spoke of her own accord often anyways. Her brows furrowed, and he could see an almost guilty expression arise on her face. He recognized the expression instantly, and took her arm and lead her back to one of the empty corridors. He had children, and he knew when tears surfaced. He made no move to touch her, or soothe her, he merely let her cry. Only a couple tears slipped past her lashes from what he could tell, ruining the thin eyeliner she put on her bottom lid. At the burning sensation of the wet eyeliner, she began to have involuntary tears.

"I'm so selfish, so selfish. I can't believe everything I've done. I've left you and Whiterun, the city that helped me when I was desperate. I can't believe how terrible I am!" She exclaimed. His expression changed from that of a stern one, to that of a caring one. He did not mean for his opinions to take such an effect on her person. He patted her back softly, letting it linger there lightly.

"You're not a selfish person, Mia. You're a very good person. You are young, that is all. The people of Skyrim may dislike you, but give them a reason to respect you, and you will be revered forever. I believe in you, sweet girl. Believe me when I say that is not a statement I utter often." He soothed. She wiped the runny eyeliner with her arm scarf, taking the tears along with it.

Her large, brown eyes looked up to his, as if searching for a refuge she could hide in. Tears threatened to flow once again, so she looked away from him. He was much taller than the Imperial girl, and thus had to lean down so that he could comfort her. He wrapped his hand around her shoulder comfortingly, noticing that her tears had almost completely stopped now. He noticed that she was a conflicted person, and often flitted between emotions, never keeping one for too long. He knew that she looked up to him and wished to please him with her mannerisms, to which he could only blame on her status as an adolescent girl.

"You really mean that? You care for me, my Jarl?" She asked innocently.

"As I care for everyone under my protection." He answered her. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and then her expression went from utter sadness to disappointment. Disappointed in what, he could've guessed, but he didn't wish to dwell into the mind of a young girl, a mind he was all too familiar with.

"I'm sorry I ruined this party, or whatever, for you. It didn't really look like you were having fun anyways, I.. I apologize if I've in anyway made it worse on you." She said to him, causing him to chuckle lightly.

"Trust me when I say I'd rather deal with a thousand teenage girls than one General Tullius. If I have to dismiss Jarl Idgrod one more time, I may leave by horseback tonight. This is not my setting. My place is in Whiterun, dealing with the people who need me. These people don't need me, this is just a show by the Thalmor to remind us who controls the Empire, nothing more." He stated unabashedly.

"I like Jarl Idgrod, though. She says she can see the future, I think she's telling the truth." She defended the old crone. Balgruuf allowed a wide-eyed expression on his face, but it didn't last for long. "What?" She asked, offended.

"Nothing, girl. Nothing besides the fact that you are the only person in all the nine holds that believes that old crone." He was quiet for a moment, but continued to say something else, "You don't have to come back to the festivities. If you wish, you can remain here, or go back to your chamber. I will tell them you are ill and not to be bothered with. I will come to your chambers later this evening." She nodded, thankful for his kindness. He could see that she felt somewhat bashful and humiliated, perhaps from crying, so he soothed her the best way he could without being too personal. "There's no shame in fear, there's no shame in sadness either. It is perfectly normal for all of us to feel such emotions. Even I feel these things."

"Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf. I'm going to go and rest. Again, I'm sorry. I hope the rest of your evening is fine." She said to him, both taking their leave.

He watched as she headed the opposite way of him, towards the chambers she was given for her time here. He didn't think she would be too gravely missed from the celebration, and as such, neglected to tell anyone that she was gone. Irileth took her place by his side, her form looking almost humorous in the formal garment. The cotton dress did nothing to flatter the Dunmeri woman, as was her wish. It was beige-colored, looking almost like a sack on the woman. Irileth never relaxed during the celebration, eyeing its hosts and guests with suspicion. Never once did Balgruuf find her eating or talking informally with the guests, not even taking sips of the expensive wine that was plentiful.

"Come, Irileth, relax. Have a drink with me." Balgruuf grabbed two goblets for the two of them at the banquet table.

"If I may, your grace, I can fill those for you." A servant girl called to him, offering her services.

"I believe I can fill my own cup of ale." Balgruuf's statement made the girl before him blush and get back to her duties quickly. Balgruuf, like any Nord, preferred ale to wine, so he poured two goblets for his friend and himself.

"I do not wish to get drunk, my jarl. How can I protect you if I'm inebriated?" She questioned the man.

"There are hundreds of Imperial guards in this tower. You have come as an honored guest, not as a necessity. And, frankly, don't pretend that you've never been intoxicated before. You forget we practically grew up together, and I've seen you smoke more opium than any man ever should." Balgruuf stated, causing Irileth's stoic face to crack under his humor.

* * *

It was getting late in the evening, and nearly all of the participants were drunk, save for the Altmeri, who did not participate in heavy drinking. Balgruuf watched as Irileth got drunker than himself. It had been a long time since the two had any moment of merriment. Even the general was a little tipsy, conversing with guests much more than usual. The Nordic guests, however, were nearly passed out, drunk.

The Altmeri looked at them condescendingly, like a fly that desperately needed to be flicked from a window. Elenwen especially looked very disappointed in the drunken attendants. Balgruuf wasn't nearly as drunk as the others, and didn't wish to be, due to his word to Mia that he would return to her later. Irileth giggled at something far away in the room, leaving the Jarl very amused at his shield's unusual and drunken behavior. At that moment, the festivities were pretty much over. Noblemen and their wives drunkenly returned to their quarters, oblivious to the foreboding look the Thalmor gave them.

Balgruuf escorted Irileth to her rather small room, finally making his way to Mia's chamber. It was a rather large room, not that she needed such space. He knocked on the door, and when he heard no response, he opened it. There she was, asleep, in her chair by the table. She had obviously fell asleep whilst waiting for him, causing a slight pang of guilt to hit him. Her head was lying on her arms, her hair sprawled out along the table, no longer confined by pins. He could see a hint of her face peeking out of the folds of her hair, her complexion back to her usual pale olive now that she was away from the celebration. She shifted slightly in her sleep, possibly at the sound of the door opening. He did not wish to wake the girl, so instead he picked up her light form with ease, placing her under the thin sheets without waking her.

He did not look behind him when he left. He walked across the corridor, to his own chamber. Being too drunk to write a letter, yet too sober to sleep, he decided to take a seat in front of the lit hearth. His thoughts drifted from the festivities in Solitude, to his children at home, and finally to the Dragonborn, where they remained there.

She was somewhat of a welcome thorn in his side, someone he didn't mind having around. He welcomed it, even. She had arrived, almost a year ago now, on his doorstep, with news that Helgen had been raised to the ground by a dragon. He had expected a broad and strong Nordic warrior to carry this news, not a small, delicate Imperial that practiced magic. To the Imperials, this was victory in itself. It was almost an insult that the Nordic hero of legend was an Imperial magic user. Imperials, however, had never been prouder. It gave them a sense of pride, something they needed while under control by the Thalmor. One of their own held the fate of Nirn in her very hands. Balgruuf was becoming increasingly overprotective of the girl, even though he vowed he would remain neutral. It seemed remaining neutral was a promise he could never keep, not even to the Dragonborn of legend. It was not his conflict to get involved in, yet he became involved with it nonetheless.

Being around the girl made him feel less lonely. He was only ever around Irileth, who was stoic and serious in every affair she allowed herself into, never making small talk. Proventus was similar to all wealthy Imperials, snobbish and superficial, making him unwelcome company at best. That left the occasional visit from Mia, who was honest, and sweet. However, she never took the initiative of starting a conversation, which frustrates most, especially someone who admired strength like himself. But her company was much more welcome than Proventus' or even Irileth's. Most of all, her company was _new_.

Now that peace was established in Skyrim, what would become of the Empire? Tullius, of course, would leave for the Imperial City in less than a week, after being in Skyrim fighting the war for years. The Thalmor, however, would remain in Skyrim, making sure their influence was not lost on the Nordic people. They would flaunt this power in front of the Nord's faces, making them _wish_ they had sided with the Empire originally. Skyrim was too weak to live without an Empire, and every Nordic rebellion that surfaced (about every century), was eventually snubbed and controlled by the Empire. Skyrim, as said many times before by many people, was a relatively unimportant landmass that relied solely on imports from other provinces and the export of mead, which was not in _that_ high of a demand. Ulfric's rule would've worsened Skyrim's economic situation. There was also the statement, albeit unpopular, that Ulfric was merely a puppet of the Thalmor, whose only purpose was to cause civil unrest between Skyrim and the Empire, so that the Thalmor could easily take control over the Empire if the Stormcloaks had won.

The thought of eventual Dominion rule left a foul taste in Balgruuf's mouth, as it did most others that called Skyrim home. Skyrim was well-known for its inhabitants who were both headstrong and desired independence. Thalmor rule was inevitable if the Empire continued to shiver under the great shadow that was the Dominion. There was currently no force in Tamriel that could rival the Dominion, besides, of course, the Empire, which was too busy catering to the Dominion's needs.

He thought back to Mia's statement that Talos was not a god, that he was a man, whom, in life, was a violent tyrant who conquered Tamriel, and destroyed cultures and races in the process. The statement, of course, was a biased one, but one that he supposed was partially true. Talos was a popular deity in Nordic culture, one who was celebrated by nearly everyone who named Skyrim their place of birth. To any Nord, it was shameful that Talos could no longer legally be represented as a god.

Balgruuf was finally becoming tired, and eventually retired to his bed. The rest of the week went by fast, with the coronation of the now King Igmund taking place. He was ready to go home, back to Whiterun, and away from Imperial court intrigue. He knew Mia was ready, as well as Irileth, and they were the first to leave. He did not miss the lingering eyes of Siddgeir on Mia's form as she left, or the blush that appeared on her cheeks afterwards. She was obviously unused and ignorant of male attention.

Inside of the carriage, he finally got to speak to Mia privately for the first time in days. She had donned her usual attire, plainly colored clothes and a ponytail. It was much easier to make conversation with her when there was nothing for her to fidget with. The carriage was bland and had no decorations, just seats and a makeshift bed.

"Carriages like this remind me of home." She commented, surprising him from his thoughts.

"How so?" He asked in genuine curiosity.

"We traveled often, when we had the money. Half my family lived in the Imperial City, the other half lived in Skingrad. Occasionally, my mother's professions brought us to different counties like Anvil and Chorrol. One time, we even visited Daggerfall. It was the highlight of my life." She told him.

It was not hard for her to open up about her life, she had no secrets, no past of interest. Her innocent views of the world piqued his interest however, and her simple amusements brought a small smile to his face. Knowing her passion was fields of magic, he brought up the subject.

"Did you learn much in Daggerfall?" Her eyes lit up in excitement at the subject she was most passionate about.

"Very much! There, I learned how to cast my first ward. There were several different mages that watched on, mages that my mother had known from her adolescence. They were adorned in different silks from the Alik'r, Summerset, and Elsweyr. One of them even claimed to be Tsaesci. He had golden eyes and every word that came out of his mouth was spoken in a lilt I'd never heard before. We only stayed there for a fortnight, but if I could've chosen, I'd have stayed. It was amazing, it was the greatest experience of my life, my Jarl." She explained, her eyes as wide as they were when she began. "Have.. Have you ever been outside of this province?" She asked.

"Not for a very long time. It's probably been ten years since I've left Skyrim." He told her.

"And where was it that you went, my Jarl?"

"Perhaps you knew that I fought in the Great War, alongside my shield, Irileth. We were stationed in Morrowind for a time, then in Cyrodiil. Apart from those two provinces, I have not visited anywhere else. Skyrim's Jarls are not as involved in Imperial court intrigue as the counts and barons of Cyrodiil and High Rock. Our role is in our country, not in Cyrodiil." He explained to her.

The trip flew past him, leaving nothing in its place. It was as if nothing at all happened, but he was fairly certain something did happen. He could tell by her behavior that she was becoming interested in him. Having never been around the company of males, she gravitated towards the most mature of the males in her life, the male that could most likely remind her of her father. Balgruuf was an older male, but he'd be lying if he said it was not reassuring that an attractive female was interested in him. However, he knew this interest to be innocent, and entirely coincidental, but that did nothing to stop his worrying of her becoming overly attached.

Life went back to normal, with the exception of Mia's presence being in the keep nearly everyday. She spent most of her time with Farengar, the two discussing magics. Balgruuf overheard Farengar teaching the girl about soul gems and how to entrap a petty soul, and Farengar eventually becoming impatient with her ignorance of soul magic. He remembered her saying she could never grasp the magic behind soul gems.

"When a soul is absorbed and expired, it does not return to Mundus. It instead is retrieved and harvested by the Ideal Masters, in a mysterious plane referred to as the Soul Cairn. Soul magic was obsessed over by the Chimer, and that obsession was passed over to their present-day offspring, the Dunmer. They were known for harvesting souls and placing them in these massive soul gems. Their creator, Azura, has an artifact fondly called _Azura's Star_. It is said to hold an infinite amount of souls." He overheard Farengar explaining to the young girl.

"What are they made of?" She questioned the elder mage.

"Hmm, it is currently unknown. Some scholars believe that they are naturally occurring, enriched quartz that just so happen to have the ability to hold captured souls. Others believe they are spawned by the Ideal Masters." He said.

"And who are the Ideal Masters?" She asked curiously.

"They are like Alduin, rarely talked about and rarely seen. It is normal for the only people to know of their existence are people who are highly trained in soul magic, and those who have made deals with them, like necromancers. Even then, I know little to nothing about them, I'm afraid. I would like to say that they are similar to the Daedra, but there's no real record of them appearing on Nirn, so their existence may be in fact false." Farengar stated.

Balgruuf cleared his throat behind them, signaling for Mia to come to him. He saw Farengar roll his eyes but continue his work. Mia seemed confused at his requesting of her presence, but followed him nonetheless. She was wearing a thin mage's robe today that was a light blue and glowed with a dim, but noticeable magical aura.

"May I ask why you summoned me, my Jarl?" She uttered.

"I wanted to know if you're enjoying Whiterun. I've noticed you've been spending a great deal of time with my court wizard. Are your intentions towards Farengar friendly, or something more?" He couldn't help himself from prying. Farengar was somewhat of a hermit, and Mia was usually somewhat of a mute, so to see the two outcasts speaking openly to one another was a surprising sight.

She then uttered a girlish giggle, reminding Balgruuf of the ladies he would court in his younger days. Her cheeks were aflame just then, and her words came out in a stammer afterwards.

"Uh.. N-no, my Jarl. I don't.. Um, I don't have eyes for Farengar. He's just a friend, and he's been teaching me about magic, is all. He's not, well, no insults to him, but he's not.." She didn't continue her statement, only flushing further.

"Not.. what?" He asked in amusement. She was rather susceptible to teasing.

"I guess.. I guess he's not my type." She answered innocently.

"Ah. I see." He stated, all the while sporting a knowing smile on his handsome face.


	5. Chapter 5

Mia had left for Windhelm that morning, and had been gone for a few hours by now. The mysterious woman she referred to as 'Delphine' had recently contacted her, wishing to speak with her in the local inn there. She knew little to nothing without the woman, and was travelling alone, which wasn't entirely unsafe due to the plethora of Imperial soldiers now patrolling the long roads of Skyrim.

"I understand that Elenwen offered to invite you to a party. When I overheard this, I believed it to be petty and polite court talk. But, it looks like she really meant it. She listed you as one of the attendants that would be invited to her party in two months. It's a rather small list of guests, a small party, nothing _too large_. This is important, though. You don't have my trust until you successfully infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy and steal these dossiers." The woman who called herself Delphine instructed.

"How did you know about Elenwen extending me an invitation?" Mia had said back.

"I have my ways." Was all Delphine uttered in return.

This was dangerous territory that Mia had walked into now. As her life as 'Dragonborn' progressed, so would the danger of her missions. Infiltrating the Thalmor Embassy was nothing _small_ , however, contrary to what Delphine had instructed earlier. Mia was given two months to prepare for the mission, as shortly after the coronation of the new High King, Elenwen visited Auridon. Mia had revealed the letter to Balgruuf, the letter was closed with a dragon seal, signifying the return of the Blades. Inside, the words "Operation, Diplomatic Immunity" were written in an elegant hand. If the Blades really had returned to the world, perhaps the dragon threat could be snubbed, and perhaps the Empire could come back to full strength.

The return of the Blades, however, signaled an early Second Great War between the Dominion and the Empire. Just more needless, endless bloodshed. The Blades had not been a popular organization ever since the Great War, with Thalmor operatives hunting them down into extinction. They were, after all, a threatening organization that was inhabited by soldiers who could hold a blade like an Akaviri warrior.

"What do you think this means, for me? For the world? The return of Alduin, the looming second war.." Mia questioned him.

"If someone knew, this problem would've already been solved. Never has this world known true peace, not since the Aedra created man. Or, since they created Alduin. You have read tomes that spoke of Alduin, right?" She nodded.

"When I went to the college, I read some interesting tomes on Alduin. In Cyrodiil, we never spoke of the Nordic Pantheon, it just wasn't taught, it wasn't important to us. I went all my life without knowing of these great Nordic heroes and their dragon overlords. Alduin.. Alduin was one of these overlords. The Nordic God of destruction, his name is barely even remembered by most Nords nowadays. I remember watching him breathe fire over Helgen that day, his eyes.." She paused, tears shimmering in her eyes, threatening to fall but she willed them not to, "They were like rubies. He looked at me, I remember that. He looked at me, eye to eye, like an equal. He knew." She whimpered.

"Of course he knew, he shares your blood." He replied casually, his eyes never leaving her own.

"How crazy this world is." She said, mostly to herself, it seemed.

"This world isn't crazy. It's completely normal. What other world could you compare it to?" He replied sarcastically.

"Touche." Was all that was said.

This was how most days were going recently. For Mia, it was waking up in her guest room in Dragonsreach, and visiting Arcadia to make extra gold. Everyday, she went outside of Whiterun's gates to collect alchemical reagents for the woman. Then, she returned to the palace, where she often had extensive lessons with Farengar. After those lessons, dinner was prepared, and she retired for the night. She went to bed uncharacteristically late, for someone who liked to rise early.

Dinner on this evening was different from others. There was no mutton, no venison, no pork; only salmon. The Nords enjoyed dining on summer delicacies before summer's ending, as it was nearly Last Seed. A draft of temperate wind blew through the keep, lifting Mia's curls ever so slightly. She seemed rather pleased with the mild weather, coming from a southern Cyrodiil county, after all. Indeed, this was a beautiful season in Skyrim. The province was known for having mild summers and harsh, cold winters, so the short summers were cherished and held onto tightly when they came. Of course, being a Nord, Balgruuf enjoyed the incredibly harsh winter that every Nord was used to, amused at the way foreigners hid under their thin cloaks even during the early days of autumn.

Although Mia still walked and talked with her usual timid exterior, he believed that she was progressing. In time, she'd become a capable woman that could hold her own. Until then, however, she would stay under his wing in Dragonsreach. She had told him everything, from meeting with the woman Delphine, and the plans to infiltrate the embassy. He had heard trepidation and guilt in her voice when she mentioned the infiltration. _Poor girl_ , she most likely felt guilty for having to betray those who were kind to her. Balgruuf mentioned to her that there were other options, but she claimed that she would eventually explore every option.

Hrongar was currently telling a joke to the children and Irileth, receiving giggles in return. The Jarl watched on in amusement, admiring his younger brother playing with his children. Irileth, however, made no move in hiding her annoyance with the Nord. Hrongar, being drunker than usual, focused his petty jokes on her.

"Irileth, can you pass me some salt?" Hrongar jokingly asked, "Oh wait! Never mind. Your saltiness is enough to flavor a ham the size of Whiterun." The children barked out in laughter, even Mia giggled endlessly, her jovial gaze meeting his own. He showed his own smile of appreciation at Hrongar's jokes, and chuckled softly.

He could see that Irileth was inwardly fuming, practically furious at the harmless assault on her person. She fixed Hrongar with a fearsome gaze, her crimson eyes growing darker by the second. She would've left, if it wasn't for her devotion to shielding her lord. She eyed her food with disgust, then Hrongar, before eventually setting her sole focus on the food before her.

"I have someone I'd like you to meet, Dragonborn." Balgruuf announced, gesturing for someone behind all of them.

Mia's eyes roamed to the woman in question. Her eyes ran over the tall, Nordic woman, taking in the common sight of yet _another_ Nord in Skyrim that was a better fighter than her. She was taller than the average Nord, with a square jaw and the tan complexion of an adventurer. Her hair was shoulder-length and colored a medium brown, the same color as her eyes.

"This is Lydia. She is your new Housecarl." He stated.

"Honor to you, my Thane. I am your shield, and sworn to carry any burdens you place upon me. I will guard your hearth, and protect you. I will give my very life for yours, if I must." Lydia bowed, her face stern like the loyal servant she was well known for being.

"P-pleasure meeting you, Lydia." He could see the insecurity dawning again, her short-lasting confidence not lasting long enough. "I.. I'm afraid I don't have a house right now. This is my home, for now.." Mia added.

"I will follow you to the end of Tamriel on any of your ventures. I will remain by your side until you wish to relieve me of your service." Lydia calmly stated.

Farengar watched the exchange in amusement, taking the occasional chug of ale. Hrongar scooped up one of Balgruuf's sons on his shoulder, his daughter, on the other, the large Nord carrying the two kids back to their rooms for bedtime. Irileth excused herself from the dinner table, leaving the disgruntled attendants in their place. Mia quietly munched on her loaf of bread, before taking small spoonfuls of her boiled potatoes. The sound of Balgruuf's voice led her to placing the spoon down, directing her full attention to the man.

"You mentioned once that you needed to travel to Winterhold so you could gather your colleagues to take with you on dangerous expeditions. You needn't travel to the college for that purpose anymore. Lydia is a capable warrior, capable of defending you from whatever dangers lie ahead in your path. Her servitude is my gift to you." He said, forking at the food on his plate. She blushed, her eyes going from his, to her potatoes, which eventually plopped back onto her plate.

"Thank you, my Jarl. I will take her with me when I-" She stopped herself so as to not reveal any sensitive information to the others around her. "Next time I go out." She corrected herself.

"I'll be content knowing you are safe with her." Balgruuf finished his plate, rising from the dining table to retire to his quarters. He nodded towards his court wizard and his steward, smiling warmly towards Mia.

This left Mia with no one but Farengar, and her new Housecarl. She smiled shyly towards the Nord woman, gesturing towards the seat next to her with consideration. Mia felt intimidated by the woman's size and obvious ferocity. Her own eyes looked at her plate while she spoke with the woman.

"You don't need to go anywhere with me, not if you don't want to." Mia said to the Nord woman whose name was Lydia.

"I will stay by your side, like I said. I have been a warrior my entire life, my Thane. I have always wanted a suitable lord or lady to serve. It looks as if I have found my match." She replied courteously.

Mia blushed but nodded either way, allowing her new housecarl to occupy the seat next to her. Lydia was a woman that couldn't be older than thirty, her features fair but subtle, much like Mia's own. In this way, Mia felt somewhat comfortable. Lydia's size, however, made the Imperial girl feel uncomfortable in her own skin - self-conscious, if she was being completely honest. Every time Mia's eyes landed on a Nordic warrior, she was reminded of how truly _weak_ she was. She would never be the true Dragonborn of legend, but she could always try. Her Jarl, who had shown her the utmost kindness, allowed her to realize that while the Nordic people respect prowess in combat, their respect for courage and decency was higher.

Her own feelings towards the Nordic race had changed drastically since she had ventured into Skyrim. Coming from Cyrodiil, her opinions on them were often skewered by the Imperial's inclination towards formalities and the proper arts. Instead, she often learned more about the Altmer, who overlooked all education in Cyrodiil, making sure the history of their races were told very biased. Once, Imperial curriculum for children's education was to teach them the histories of the land, offering the teaching of languages at an additional cost to their parents. Mia's mother was someone who wanted her child to be properly educated, so with her humble earnings, she paid the fee for her daughter to fluently speak Altmeri, a language that was important for magic users to learn. Mia, being bright from a young age, learned it astonishingly quick, surprising both her mother and her Altmer professor.

Deciding to take her own thoughts with her to bed, she retired, Lydia at her heels.

"I- I would ask the Jarl to give you a spare bedroom.. But I think it would be okay for you to spend the evening in my own room.. I have a spare cot in there that I can lay out for you. That is.. If you want to stay with me. I'm not forcing you." She stammered, inwardly cursing her impulse to nervously babble.

"I do not mind, my Thane. Only weeks ago did I sleep on the cold ground, with nothing but a thin blanket. A cot and a warm hearth are both things I will be grateful to have, a mistress who cares for my well-being, even more grateful." Mia smiled at her housecarl's confession, wringing her hands and mentally telling herself that she would please her housecarl by further being a good mistress to serve.

When the two reached the thane's humble quarters, Mia immediately started to prepare the cot for her housecarl. She unfolded it, slightly struggling with it but succeeding nonetheless. She sighed when it was completely ready, taking a pillow from her own bed and laying it on the material, a fur blanket from her own bed following. Lydia's brows rose slightly at the hospitality of her thane, and thanked her briefly, undressing from her stiff armor and crawling onto the cot. Her own thane was already in a deep sleep by the time Lydia had rid her armor.

* * *

He watched her close the doors to the palace behind her, leaving Lydia sitting in the dining hall, watching her thane leave. Mia had left to sell some of her findings to Belethor. Balgruuf had always found the Breton man to be sleazy and untrustworthy, but he brought a lot of business to his city. Balgruuf chuckled at the thought of Belethor's wandering eyes and smarmy behavior making his newest customer shake in her boots. Mia returned about forty minutes later, her coinpurse filled, but her spirits unusual, probably from being verbally molested by Belethor.

The three of them ate breakfast rather early, with Balgruuf's court being late risers, with the exception of himself and his newest court member. Mia ate only the oatmeal, scooping the slop into her mouth. She had shook cinnamon and sugar over it, much to his surprise. She seemed to have a taste for sweet things. She ate delicately, every now and then taking a sip of warm milk. Her new companion, Lydia, ate her breakfast like a warrior, scooping oatmeal into her mouth, as well as a hearty amount of bacon. Lydia had already finished her plate, while Mia wasn't even halfway done with her bowl of oats. Mia spared a glance at her housecarl's plate, a small, incredulous smile adorned her face. He caught this look, sending her a smile of his own, accompanied with a raise of his brow, earning a light blush from the imperial.

The days went by after that. Mia continued to study schools of destruction, which weren't allowed in the palace. Because of this, he saw her instead practicing these out in the courtyard. At first, his guards attempted to stop her but she was quick to tell them that Balgruuf allowed it. They were, at first, in disbelief at Balgruuf's leniency, then at once, understanding, a silent message going between them that was missed by Mia.

He watched her one day, noticing how it took her less than seconds to conjure a fireball in her hand, casting it onto the stone wall, where it exploded with a loud thump. Her skills with the fire grew everyday that he watched her, it seemed that she was preparing for future battles to come. _Good._

After a week of practicing her destructive spells, she started digging her nose into dusty, old tomes that belonged to his court wizard. She first read about the Merethic Era, informing herself of the Dragonborns of old, and the dragon cultists that existed far before either of their time. She had informed him, briefly, of her displeasure regarding reading about ancient Nords.

"I'd rather read about goat cheese." She uttered, forgetting he was in the room with her. She then corrected herself, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment. "I mean, I'd rather read about Alduin, but there are no tomes about him here. By here, I mean.. Tamriel. Most books I've found are fable.. or myth. None of them have any _real_ truth to them, my lord. The only other option is to walk the 7,000 steps and speak with their leader. I... I-" She paused. "I'm not ready to go back."

An unexplained bond grew between the two then, when those fearful words were spoken. She revealed herself to him, allowing all her flaws to show, which, admittedly, were few. She looked into his eyes for answers, her own eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. It was almost as if she thought he had the answer to everything. Regrettably, he did not and was not afraid to voice this in response. However, he instead soothed her, telling her that it would be suitable to wait for word from Delphine. He informed her that there were many options ahead, but those options would appear over time, and thus, she had no reason to rush herself now.

So, she continued scouring through Whiterun for any clues toward Alduin, and his followers, while he observed her quirky, curious nature. He overheard her telling Lydia that she wanted to go to Winterhold to speak with the librarian to second check if there were any books there regarding Alduin. He didn't mention it to her, until she began packing, about to leave his palace.

"Where are you off to, Dragonborn?" He asked, flinching at his apparent worried tone.

"I'm off to Winterhold, my lord. I need to check the library at the college. I shouldn't be gone for more than a fortnight." She said to him, bowing then taking her leave, housecarl in tow.

And so, the days went by. Days went by exceptionally fast when the mystical Dragonborn of legend was not there. She had become a common sight in Dragonsreach. She'd become a part of it, recently, somewhat of a regular attendant. It was her home, after all. While she was gone, he had her sheets washed by the maids, and her room tended to.

For once, besides the looming threat of Alduin, the land of Skyrim was again prosperous and peaceful. More cities were allowing Khajiit into their walls, due to the Aldmeri Dominion's stance on Khajiiti rights. Windhelm's Grey District had improved tremendously; buildings were being repaired and business was flowing through like no one had seen in years. Argonians now lived in the city if that was their choice, however many of them remained on the docks. Because of the Aldmeri Dominion's influence on the Empire, education was being pushed into Skyrim. It began in minor holds like Falkreath, but soon mandatory education was being enforced in Markarth. This, of course, mostly applied to the wealthy who could afford providing an education to their children.

Other provinces had their own means of education, their own ways of teaching the young. Skyrim, on the other hand, never had an established educational system. Residents had never seen a point in teaching the logical ways. Of course, Skyrim's new education under the Aldmeri Dominion would differ from the Summerset Isles, which implores residents to send young peoples to housings and dormitories where they are taught in large classes. No, Skyrim's educational practices would be similar to Cyrodiil's, which involved hiring professors. Things were changing in Skyrim, they had been for a few months now, ever since Ulfric's demise, which allowed for the Thalmor to execute more control over it. The Empire eagerly played the puppet, Emperor Titus remaining happy as long as his pockets were filled with Altmeri gold, and his ears tempted by the silver tongues of the charismatic elves.

Everything was peaceful, until there were rumors that the Empire once again was trying to colonize Morrowind. Everyday that this rumor reached his ears, Balgruuf rolled his eyes in disagreement. After the Empire left Morrowind years ago, they had never thought about returning due to the weakening of their influence. However, it seemed that the Thalmor wished to manipulate the provinces, using the Empire to do their bidding, and unite all of the races under one empire. It was likely that the Black Marsh would be next, but not for years.

Mia returned, a couple days late. She returned, donned in a different robe than last time. It was a dark purple, complimenting her dark Imperial features well. He noticed she was wearing an Amulet of Julianos, which was rumored to serve as a boon for magicka users. What he didn't notice first, however, was the large sack that she had carried behind her into Dragonsreach.

"I told you I can help you with that, my Thane." One could hear Lydia utter.

"N-no, I'm fine." Mia replied, but eventually caved in to Lydia's help and allowed her to carry it to their quarters. He could see the ashamed blush on Mia's cheeks, and smiled in amusement.

"Cheer up, girl. One day, you'll be able to hold a million books in your hand." Hrongar teased. She looked down at her feet, blushing even harder.

The first person she visited with was Farengar, selling two soul gems to him, as they were of no use to her. She smiled shyly when her eyes met the Jarl's, hesitantly walking over to his throne, making sure she had permission to come up there. He nodded, allowing her to sit on the stairs leading up to the seat.

She looked up at him from her place on the floor, as if waiting for him to say something. She was more jovial than usual, much more open. He briefly wondered why she was in such a light mood, but decided against asking her and potentially making her uncomfortable.

"Safe trip, I assume?" He asked her, eliciting a slow nod from the girl.

"Yes, my Jarl. I apologize for returning a tad bit late. There was a snowstorm that lasted a few days when I was at the college. I.. I was going to write to you, but then it cleared up. Poof." She giggled nervously at her explanation, then looked around, checking for anyone that may have been listening in.

All of her little quirks were fascinating, and each moment he spent around the Dragonborn, he found her less boring than he did the first day he met her. Never judge a book by its plain, brown cover, after all. She learned fast, proving to be sharp and intelligent. So were most mages, if not all. Knowledge was their field, after all - their expertise. However, it was noted that many mages were often absent-minded and while they were experts in one field, they lacked in another. Mages were often clueless in social situations, being awkward mumblers like Mia was. Mia lacked in the field of social pleasantries and politics, for she knew little of either. It was important than she learned.

"I hope you are making good use of my gift to you, Dragonborn." She noticeably flinched at his use of the word. It was obvious that she had not completely warmed up to the idea of being called Dragonborn.

"Yes, my Jarl. Lydia is very kind, and very helpful. I just feel very.. guilty, I guess, for having her follow me around all the time. I'm no lord." She stated.

"No, you are a lady." The statement made her olive skin blush like a tomato. "So, you _don't_ appreciate my gift to you?" He asked. The question was meant to be a joke, a tease meant to please himself, as she was prone to tease.

"N-no, my Jarl! I- I really do appreciate your gift. I didn't mean to offend.." She trailed off.

"Nonsense." He chuckled it off, much to her relief. "You are _far_ too easy to tease."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: You guys were probably already aware that this story doesn't exactly follow the main questline perfectly. I think it would be exceptionally boring, if it did. Just letting you guys know that I'm aware that it's slightly AU, just to clear up any thought on me being ignorant of TES lore, haha._

Two weeks passed in the wind, and it was now time to celebrate Harvest's End, as it was nearing the midst of the Last Seed. It was the time of the year that farmers finally came into the city, sharing the last of their crops with their fellow celebrators. It was a festival that was usually only celebrated in central and southern Skyrim, along with the northern counties of Cyrodiil.

The few trees of the city were adorned by the colors of their dying leaves; red, orange, and yellow, like the colors of the sky on a warm, summer evening. Every citizen within the vicinity of Whiterun was going to attend the festival, including a few farmers from Rorrikstead looking to share their spoils from the last harvest of the year. Barrels of mead and ale were being prepared to serve the hundreds of people who would attend. In Dragonsreach, nothing changed, except the tapestries covering the tall, glass windows were removed, and replaced with a darker version of the former.

Mia seemed to be in good spirits, as she had mentioned before that she attended a Harvest End festival once, in Chorrol. No doubt, Skingrad was far from being a county that supported such a "northern" tradition. Skingrad was far too noble of a county to partake in such festivals, and besides, Skingrad was known for its wine, not its fertile land.

Balgruuf noticed that Mia had dressed for the occasion, wearing a simple, cotton dress that was a dark shade of red in color. It did well at complimenting her olive skin and dark hair. He decided that the color suited the girl, not the usual robes she wore. Then again, she wasn't a commoner, so formal clothes shouldn't befit her. However, she seemed to move rather well in the elegant clothing, obviously being accustomed to wearing dresses and robes her entire life, growing up as an Imperial in a wealthy county. Her housecarl beside her was dressed in typical Nord garb - a brown, cotton dress accompanied by a fur coat, her steel sword still determinedly strapped to her side in its sheath in case her thane was threatened.

The two stepped out of the keep, toward the festival currently being held in the streets of the market. Members of the court would eventually attend, of course. When they finally did, they were gifted with bowed heads and smiles all around.

Tapestries were hung in the street, small heaps of hay being used as seats by children and adults alike. Pumpkins adorned the street in every direction, alongside the occasional gourd and squash. Merchants from the hold were selling their wares, which ranged from vegetables, to fruits, to drinks. The drinking, of course, did not begin until the evening, when the children were put to beds by their parents'.

Reluctant at first, Mia did not drink. However, Lydia had managed to coax her thane into gulping down an entire tankard of Honningbrew Mead. It tasted foul to the young Imperial, who was used to fine wines from the southernmost of Cyrodiil. Her full lips twisted into a cringe at the taste, leaving the Nords who surrounded her in a fit of laughter. Her cheeks went aflame then, due to the embarrassment, and the alcohol. Determined to make an impression on the Nords, she gulped down the entire tankard, eliciting a small burp when finishing it. She placed her hand to her mouth after the improper action, looking to Lydia, who was guffawing at her thane, obviously just as drunk as the other Nords who were attending.

For the first time in her life, Mia had actually felt the real effects of alcohol, and they were far from negative. She was very tipsy indeed, but not quite drunk. She could still see straight, and her mind had not completely fogged over. Instead, the Nords saw a new, happier version of their Dragonborn, their prophetic hero of old. She told them stories, stories of Daggerfall and the different counties of Cyrodiil. Their eyes went wide with wonder, although some didn't seem to care at all.

Irileth returned from the celebration to take her place by her Jarl. To the court, the festivities were over. But the festivities for the commoners were not. He briefly heard Irileth swear at the sight of Hrongar stumbling in, drunker than anyone had ever seen him.

"Looks like everyone's been drinking, my Jarl. Including your Dragonborn." She said curtly.

"She's not mine, Irileth." He chided.

"Isn't she?" She replied in a more hushed tone than before.

He briefly wondered at the thought of Mia being "his". True, he found her attractive, but she was _far_ too young for him, or so he thought. Though with each passing day in her presence, he found himself more attached to the sweet girl. He had been lonely for far too long, and despite his position of power, he was still a male. But his consideration for both her youth and her destiny stopped him for pursuing her, or leaving any noticeable physical trace of romantic attachment to her. He was aware of her disposition towards him. She was infatuated, and he was the object of her adolescent adoration. The notion made him feel young, but it also made him feel sorrowful that she'd never have a normal life, that he'd never be able to give her what she wanted.

She returned, later that night, when Balgruuf was retiring to his quarters. She was drunk, her movements unsure and her eyes slightly narrowed in confusion. Her hair was a bit unruly, which was unusual from her usual proper attire and state of dress. If he could guess, she'd had about two tankards of mead, maybe three.

"Jarl Balgruuf." She drunkenly stated, not meeting his eyes but instead staring at the garb he wore. Abruptly, she wrapped her arms around his torso, and reluctantly, he indulged her, lightly returning the gesture. "Thank you, for... um... Wait." She collected her thoughts, her voice sounding dumbfounded and inebriated. "Oh!"

At that moment, her lips lightly touched his in an innocent gesture. He pulled back, however, the gesture too intimate and too sudden for him to react similarly. To her drunken mind, this meant little to her, as she attempted to do the same thing again. He did not push her away, he simply walked out of her step, putting an arm around her to keep her from falling. When he found that it was pointless to force her to stand, he picked her up and placed her in her quarters. He didn't bother to undress her, for he was sure she wouldn't remember the interaction when she woke up in the morning.

He couldn't help the burning sensation that resided on his lips, however. He looked down at her form, now passed out on the bed, and tucked her in under the fur blankets. She looked beautiful, in that moment, he thought. Youthful, in all youth's carelessness. But she was far from careless, she had the weight of the world currently on her back. But right now, as she peacefully slept, she seemed happy and carefree as the youth should be. He frowned, but left her quarters nonetheless. He silently closed the door, knowing that any sound that was made would wall on deft ears, as that girl wasn't waking any time soon. Her housecarl was nowhere to be found, and he suspected that she was passed out on a floor somewhere, probably at the Bannered Mare.

He remembered being young and carefree, having not a trouble in the world. Of course, he inherited Whiterun from his father, and many generations before, but he was not expected to inherit the throne until later in life. His youth was spent in the legion, where he met Irileth, and later, his wife. She was every inch the noble Nord woman, being able to hold a sword, and also able to cook and provide. He remembered her being the woman of his dreams, with her tall and feminine figure, accompanied by her unmistakable, Nordic blonde hair. The Divines had taken her from him many years ago now, and like most widowed Nords, he recovered by siring children from other women, raising them as his own. Although he'd be lying if he said that he did not look back in fondness to those sweet memories of he and his wife.

He didn't exactly know why he compared the sleeping Imperial to his dead wife. Perhaps it was his conflicting feelings towards their "status". From the moment he became involved with her life, he knew that their relationship was anything but normal. It didn't feel paternal, and it didn't feel friendly either. A sort of protectiveness manifested in him for the girl, an urge to protect her from the people who wished to harm her. And who better to protect her than someone in a position of power, like himself? Indeed it was not a hard feat to deny her earlier display of drunken affection, but he briefly thought about returning the sentiment. After all, drunken feelings were honest, painstakingly so, which is why the drunk act on them when their confidence is boosted by alcohol.

The next few days, Mia avoided him like the plague. No doubt, she remembered everything that happened, much to his dismay. She remained in her quarters, sticking her nose in the books she retrieved from the college, barely even stepping into Farengar's study. He had attempted to make conversation with her, but every attempt was met with a heavy blush, followed by stammering. Normally, that behavior would've been adorably endearing, but it only made him feel worse for his actions.

Each time he saw her, her head was down and she stayed close next to her housecarl, attempting to hide from him. Her behavior was childish, but it was expected from a child. Days passed and soon, she was off to Solitude to infiltrate the Thalmor's headquarters. A few days later, it was rumored that the Thalmor's operation was interrupted by a Bosmer and a young woman, to which extremely high amounts of coin were offered for any information on the two. They obviously weren't aware that the very intruder was the Dragonborn. She did not return, after that. A month passed, still no sign. He was increasingly worried, so he listened in on any rumors that could possibly hint towards her whereabouts. There were none.

Finally, he received a letter from her. She never mentioned her name, but he recognized the writing to be hers.

 _To whom it concerns (Jarl Balgruuf),_ he smiled at the introduction of the letter.

 _I wanted to write to you, not only because I've been gone for over a month, but also to apologize for my actions on Harvest End. I realize they were uncalled for and it won't happen again. If you wanted to know, I've been in the Rift for about two weeks now. It's much warmer here than Whiterun. It reminds me of my home - my real home. Everything went well, I'm not in any danger. Well, not in any imminent danger, that is. I don't know when I'll be back. I hope I can be back within a fortnight, but I don't want to make any promises I might break._

 _Yours, Mia_

 _Yours._ The word bounced around in his head for about a minute, although he knew she meant nothing of it. He did worry for her safety briefly, but she had Lydia, one of the best warriors in the Whiterun Hold. He had watched the two become close, the two naturally getting along due to Lydia's gentleness and eager to serve, and Mia's kindness and eager to please.

Days went by, and the Jarl watched the events unfold in front of his very eyes. The Empire was steadily gaining strength, attempting to increase their influence throughout the provinces. The Black Marsh had been invaded by House Redoran, their attempt to snatch Argonian slaves a major success. House Redoran had been warned by the Empire of these actions and yet they did it anyway. Dunmeri arrogance was more apparent than ever, even though their homeland had been broken by volcanic eruptions and religious turmoil. Perhaps it was the Thalmor trying to pit provinces against the Empire, daring the Empire to invade Morrowind to free the Argonian slaves. One could not be certain.

"Your Dragonborn returned today, my Jarl. I heard reports of her in the city earlier. Perhaps we'll see her face before she disappears yet again." Irileth said in a dark voice. She hadn't been quiet about her dislike for the Imperial girl. Irileth despised cowardice, and despite being of Dunmeri birth, she also had a strong dislike for magic.

"She's just a girl, Irileth. Tell me honestly, can you imagine being born as the divine's hero, and being told you were to wipe Alduin from existence; and if not, the world as you know it, would be gone." He eyed the Dunmer, daring her to make a retort. Instead, he earned a scoff and a frustrated glare of red eyes.

"Here she comes, my Jarl." The massive, double doors of Dragonsreach closed, as if on cue. "That coward." Irileth whispered, to which he set a glare on the Dark Elf.

When she came a bit closer to the dais, his gaze swept over her, taking in her appearance. She had a slight limp, but otherwise seemed okay. Her unmistakably foreign skin was replaced with a pale version of its former residential tone. The circles under her eyes were deep and gray, showing signs of both fatigue an illness. Her face was a bit more angular than usual, her full face and cheekbones being more prominent and sharp. Balgruuf dismissed his guard, and Irileth, so as to speak to her privately.

He beckoned her closer, his voice portraying his worry, "Are you injured?" She shook her head instantly, but he could see through the stubbornness. "Do not lie to your Jarl."

Instantly, she replied, her voice weak. "I.. I was shot, in the leg, on the way here.. It's nothing, the arrow barely missed, it only broke a little skin. I'm fine, I went to Arcadia's and she helped me."

"You look like Oblivion. Come, sweet girl. Let's get you to the temple."

* * *

A golden magic radiated over the bare skin of her ankle, repairing the wound and leaving a small scar. One of the healers retrieved for her some poppy milk, aiding the girl with swallowing the vile liquid down her throat. Within a few minutes, her pain was eased and Balgruuf now found that she was resting on one of the stone slabs in the temple. He walked over her form, commanding that she be left in the temple until she had completely recovered. She nodded meekly, too exhausted to defend herself.

"If I may, my Thane, I did tell you to take me with you. I would've-" Balgruuf interrupted the Housecarl abruptly.

"You may not, Lydia. You can't always expect her to make the right choices for herself. All that matters now is that she's fine, with no infections, no mars."

"She has a slight case of the Rattles, but with any luck, it should pass within the next few days, my Jarl." One of the priestesses informed him.

Beneath him, the girl slept peacefully, her eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly. He allowed a smile to wander his face then, not attempting to hide his admiration of the girl. She was tougher than he thought, and he could respect that. Of the few times he had seen her asleep, he decided it was his favorite expression of hers - serenity. Not a care in the world was behind her eyes at that moment. Perhaps it was the poppy, or perhaps it was just her calm nature. Anyhow, he did not leave her side until much later that evening. Even Irileth was surprised at the attention he paid the girl. He had been disappointed in her, yes, but it quickly melted away when he saw her state. She was supposed to take Lydia with her, but she did not. It was understandable, though, the nature of her missions were becoming much more secretive and risky.

She recovered over the next couple of days, finally coming to Dragonsreach one morning. The color had mostly returned to her skin, leaving her Imperial skin dark once again. He was thankful for her quick recovery, if not a little worried of the business of why she had been in Riften. They sat together, perched on the chairs of Dragonsreach's balcony. Golden fields swayed in the distance below them, and dew adorned the small plants that decorated the stony floor.

Her dark hair blew in the wind, instinctively, her arms drew themselves around her body, her teeth chattering at the chill of the air. Balgruuf chuckled at the display of weakness to the elements, but covered her shoulders with fur nonetheless. She blushed, not being able to keep eye contact with him long enough to thank him.

Silence stretched on between them, Balgruuf waiting for the young girl to speak, while she thought of something to say. Words played in her mind, and yet she chose the least favorable of them to speak.

"The weather is.. cold. I hope this winter will be mild." She meekly stated. He scoffed next to her, at the mention of weather.

"Say what is really on your mind, child. But no, our winters are never mild, unfortunately for you, Imperial." He replied with a stern voice. A light blush came back to her cheeks then, he decided he enjoyed making that color appear on her face.

"I just.. Words can't describe how upset I am with.. With what happened that night. I was terribly drunk. I have vowed to never drink like that again." She stammered, but managed to get the whole sentence out without running away in embarrassment.

"Aye, you were very drunk. But they say that drunken feelings are the most honest ones, they portray our _true_ feelings unabashedly, without worry of what another will think of them. I wasn't angry with you, nor was I upset. You took me by surprise, is all." He told her, while taking a sip out of his tankard.

"So you're not.. You're not mad at me, right?" She managed to ask.

His lips curved in a small smile then, admiring her sweet innocence. "No, sweet girl. I'm not mad at you."

Her face looked relieved at that statement, its humiliated blush taking on a more bashful tone instead. It was adorable, really, something he didn't see often as he hadn't been close to a woman in a long time. He admired the curve of her small neck, leading to her delicate shoulders being held in a curved state, her arms huddled around her to protect her from the chill of the Autumn wind. Now that they sat there, together, he decided that she was beautiful. She was not beautiful like the sultry maidens in Nordic verses, or the fearsome battlemaidens that were sung in drunken choruses - she was simply beautiful, in her own, unique way. Yes, she was slightly plain, and very little, but her smile was infectious and her rare giggle equally so. The way her brown eyes were always hopeful, although her prophecy was sometimes hopeless, was dazzling. She looked to him for guidance, and guidance, he would give her.

A sad smile curved his lips, his thoughts drifting back to his wife. Mia was nothing like her, the two couldn't have been more opposite if they tried. But inside, he knew his wife would've enjoyed the girl. She was a good woman, after all. He briefly thought of what his wife would've thought at his developing feelings towards the Imperial. Like any Nord, she would've wanted him to move on, like the harsh winters of his land led to the sweet, gentle air of spring. He had sired a son with another woman after her death, yes, but he had not grown close with any women like he was now. It was profoundly new to him at that moment, yet he welcomed it.

"I once had a wife. She died many winters ago, I think it's been eleven years now." He said, his statement seemingly random to the Imperial girl. Her eyes met his, pity pooling in the dark orbs.

"I- I'm so sorry, my Jarl. I didn't know. What was her name?" She asked.

"Her name was Thorunn. She died during childbirth of our daughter, Dagny." He answered, sadness taking over his usually strong voice.

"What was she like?" She questioned him, her voice curious, yet sympathetic.

"She was beautiful, like you." He stated, her cheeks now aflame. He chuckled, but continued. "She was a battlemaiden I met during the Great War. She was strong, and I knew when I met her, that I wanted to spend my life with her at my side. We traveled together, she and I, spending our youth together while we had one. I miss her presence, even now, but my duties are to protect my people, and that became mine when I inherited my throne. It was not the Gods' plan to keep my wife in my life, and who am I to question the will of the Gods? They had different plans for me." He explained.

"I will never understand the fortitude of the Nords.. It's quickly becoming my favorite quality of all of you. I can only hope that one day, I will inherit this trait from the land." She said quietly.

"Why do you say such things, Mia? Why are you so quick to wishing change upon yourself? If you want so much to be like us, then accept your true nature. Don't fight your sweet and kind nature, there are already so many who do. If anything, be proud. You've made it this far, and hesitance to go any further will not help your case. There's a reason why you're sitting here, next to me, on this day. The Gods planned this, the Gods believe in you or else they wouldn't have made _you_ their champion, their chosen one. And as an educated girl, you know that is not something they do lightly." He told her, his words making her morning all the better, alongside her recovery.

"I guess I wasn't brought up by the proudest of people. My mother was a great woman.. But, but she wasn't proud of her heritage or her craft. She was a great mage, but we were just middle class citizens in our city. Of course, what am I saying? I must sound terribly ungrateful.. It's not like I ever went without anything, I was always healthy and happy. Unlike others, though, I didn't fear being a nobody. I wish the Divines would've chosen someone else, someone braver, someone that others can look up to - the hero that they write songs about. I'm not that. I would've been happy living my life as a merchant in Skingrad, alongside my mother and her family. I accept my fate, my prophecy, but I'll never agree with their decision." She explained.

He watched tears threaten to form in her eyes, but she blinked them away, miserably trying to hide her sadness from him. But her eyes always revealed her expression, for she was terribly bad at keeping secrets hidden. She looked at him, smiling sadly but keeping her chin held up nonetheless. He nodded at her, raising his mug of ale.

"Why were you in Riften?" The question must've caught her off-guard, for she looked away momentarily. She licked her dry lips suddenly, wetting them ever so slightly before speaking.

"I- I was looking for someone." Was all she said. He accepted the answer with a nod of his head, not pressing any further. If it was regarding the Blades, it was best that no one outside of their order should know of their existence.

Just then, a couple servants carried two silver trays out, setting them in front of the two. He caught one of the servants sending a jealous glare to the Imperial girl, but decided to ignore the pettiness of women for the moment. Their focus went to the steam rising off of their venison stew, the smell of the musky meat wafting through their nostrils. Mia was the first to begin eating, and Balgruuf had never seen her eat with such abandon. She was practically scooping the soup out and into her mouth, and he eyed her for it, causing her to look up, then look down, in a bashful gaze.

"Hungry, are you?" He playfully asked.

"Very. I haven't had a full meal since, well, the Embassy. I've just been living off bread and fruit since then. The Temple's food wasn't very good, either. They fed me broth and poppy milk, in that order." She giggled, looking down at her bowl of stew, scooping the bits of meat into her mouth. He watched her chew on a fatty piece of meat, her look of victory amusing him when she finally swallowed it down.

A comfortable silence fell over them then, the only sounds being uttered was their spoons scraping their bowls, and the occasional song of a bird in the distance. Ever since their interaction on Harvest End, he had grown more attracted to the girl sitting beside him. Once, he believed it better to let such feelings fade away, but he truly felt.. happy, with her in his presence. The feeling almost made him feel young again, a new need to possess taking over what was once the need to remain neutral and adamant.

"I like it out here, even in the cold. I can say what I will about Skyrim's inhabitants, and its weather patterns.. But there's no doubt that it's beautiful. Not as beautiful as the green hills of Skingrad, mind you, but.. I admire it. Whiterun, I like very much." She said.

"What do you like most about it?" He asked.

"I guess I could start with the plains. They're flat, but not barren. I like them most in the summer, when they're golden and the sun is high above them. There's this.. Almost magical feeling about the ground. Something ancient, it doesn't take a mage to feel it. And the smell of blue mountain flowers and horses, that's what I smell when I think of Whiterun. It's as close to come as I can get, really. I don't mean to compare my home with Whiterun, but.. Nothing can ever beat the verdant land of Cyrodiil, in my mind." She answered.

"Fair enough. We cherish what's most familiar to us, especially at my age. Whiterun is my home. I was born here, and I'll die here. I've spent enough time in the other holds to conclude that I never wish to visit them unless I absolutely have to."

"As Jarl, is it.. Is it expected of you to travel often?" She wondered. He chuckled in the midst of eating his stew, then answered.

"No. We're not counts. The only thing expected of us is to keep our people safe, and out of harm's way. Of course, on occasion, we interact. At celebrations, coronations, councils, that sort of thing. Those are rare, sometimes happening less than once a year. Jarl Siddgeir, he's the best example of laziness between our Jarls. You may remember him from Igmund's coronation, he's the shameless drunk of all of us. To be brief, he's not a good leader." Balgruuf stated, his slight anger at Siddgeir's shameless flirting with Mia coupled with his general dislike of the sleazy man making him unfavorable in his eyes.

"You don't like the man? I thought.. Well, I thought he was very nice. To me, at least." She uttered.

"That's because you're a young, and pretty girl. Here's a word of advice, Mia. Your status as Dragonborn is not the only reason people will want you. Yes, they'll want you for your power, but they'll also want you for other reasons. You may have already known that, but the point still stands. People will want you your entire life. You're different. The other Jarls would've used you for their own ends. Ulfric would've used you as a weapon against the Empire, and nothing would've stood in his way then. Be glad you came to me, and not them." Was all he offered.

It was true, after all. The other Jarls would've used the weak-willed Dragonborn against each other, for their own power play, among other reasons. If she had fallen in the grasp of Ulfric, she would've become nothing but his pawn, and eventually he would've attempted to sire sons through her. The thought alone made him shudder. Ulfric was now a distant memory, however, a name that barely even crossed the lips of Nords anymore. A year ago, his cause was something of importance, but he was quickly being forgotten. By some Nords, he would be remembered a war hero, but to Balgruuf, he would be remembered a brave, yet awful military tactician who used a Nordic Hero-God to achieve his purpose.

"About Ulfric..." Mia trailed off, apparently not knowing if she wanted to continue or not.

"About Ulfric?" He asked in reply to her previous statement.

"When I retrieved dossiers from the Embassy, I came across Ulfric's dossier. I took it with me, on the way out. It's in my trunk, in my room now, but.. It said something really odd. It said that Ulfric was an accomplice to the Thalmor, and that his purpose was to cause turmoil in Skyrim. I was shocked when I read it. The fact that his entire 'purpose' might've been instigated and schemed. So many people died, and it was just in vain. I also had a dossier." She said, waiting for him to speak.

"Already?" Was his response.

"Yes. It was written by Elenwen herself." Tears formed in her eyes then, but they weren't tears of sorrow, they were of fear. "She.. She described me perfectly. My height, everything. Where I was from, my surname, my family. She even mentioned that I was a scholar at the college. She knew everything about me. I can't help but wonder now, that maybe she knows I broke into her desk."

"It's unlikely. I was told people scattered, no one noticed your absence. There was no bloodshed, but there were prisoners taken afterward. Servants were imprisoned and interrogated." He stated.

"All because of me." A tear slipped down her cheek, as she thought of the people whose lives she ruined.

"You can't think of it that way. You needed those dossiers. While your actions damned a few, imagine how many would be damned if you did not succeed." He knew he had made a point, and the wheels began moving in her mind then. In order to save the world, there must also be sacrifices that are made.

"Of course you are right, my Jarl. Thank you. You always say things right." She said, looking away after she mentioned the words.

"You have no reason to think so well of me. I protect my people, and you are one of them." His response was humble, but it did nothing to make her feel better about her feelings toward the man. So she was just another citizen under his command, she thought.

"I.. I see." Was all she said. He knew then that he had hurt her feelings. She really had no reason to be hurt. After all, she did not belong to him, or vice versa; and he hadn't openly shown that he wished that to be so. But he could understand, although he did not comment on it.

Just then, Frothar and Dagny entered the balcony, the two children playing tag. Mia giggled at the exchange between the children, reminiscing about her own childhood and the things she and her playmates would do. Balgruuf noticed this, and chose to talk about this, instead of the former.

"Do you like children?" He questioned her. Her face lit up in joy instantly at the topic of the question.

"Yes, I like them. I remember when I was a child, and I wanted to be an adult. And well, look where it got me. I like watching them, but I think I'd be a terrible mother. I'm far too.. Shall we say, nomadic, for that." She said almost coyly. By nomadic, she must've meant being prone to traveling often, never staying very still for long.

"Aye, so you are an adventurer at heart. Your cover as helpless merchant's daughter is now being questioned. But no one can resist a great adventure, I know I couldn't, at your age."

Behind them, his two children played, ignoring the adults sitting in the chairs in front of them. They ran, their childish game amusing the two sitting. Balgruuf smiled at the Imperial, her admiration for his children not going unnoticed. It was attractive to him.


	7. Chapter 7

The ends of autumn had led to the beginning of Hearthfire, and if one didn't have a calendar, the chill of the air was enough to let one know what month it was. Where Mia was from, it wasn't chilly until around the month of Evening Star, and even then, the weather never became freezing. Balgruuf could see that she was not enjoying the winter air, and knew that it was only going to get colder from here. Fresh drops of rain fell from the sky, turning into sleet on their way down. It was every Nord's favorite part of the year, the part where they were the only inhabitants that dared to wander outside of their cozy homes.

Sometimes, he would watch her when she thought no one was there. She read over dusty, old tomes, over and over, and over, until the leather spines became weakened. Every time he saw her close a book, he noticed that scowl that would briefly cross her face, followed by a look of defeat. She'd chosen to read about the Nordic Pantheon, the gods that would guide her on her quest to defeat their own child, Alduin. He had permitted her use of Farengar's study, and she made full use of it. Everyday, she'd choose several books to read from, while also returning the ones from the previous day. She moved with purpose, he had never seen her in a more determined state than she was in now.

She had abandoned her robes the past few days, opting for some loose-fitting tunics and trousers. She hadn't left Dragonsreach since she'd returned from the temple, and he had found himself spending an increasing amount of time with her. She often sought his company, mostly in the morning time of their days. She had told him of her aptitude to learn more of the Dragon Language, as it already came natural to her. He had been impressed when she uttered a few words from the Voice, telling her that she was the only person in the world that the talent came naturally to. It was a calm few days, being uneventful in the best of ways, until a courier came with a letter one afternoon. It was for Mia, though he hadn't seen the contents of the letter.

Her dark brows furrowed, and then an annoyed look appeared on her face, an expression that scarcely showed itself on her. She turned her head, looking a little guilty, but opened her mouth to speak nonetheless.

"I have to go to Winterhold. They found something in a nordic ruin, nearby. I think it's called Saarthal. Anyways, they want all the apprentices to come and study it before they move it to the archives. I don't want to go, but I'm afraid I have to, my Jarl. I'll try to be quick about it." She told him, the annoyed look still not disappearing from her fair features.

"I urge you to take your Housecarl with you. It's winter now, the roads will be more dangerous." He advised. True, she had been traveling Skyrim's roads far before Lydia was introduced to her, but that didn't make the deed any less dangerous.

"I.. I appreciate your concern, Jarl Balgruuf, but I have made that journey several times even before you gave me a Housecarl." She said, invoking a nod, followed by a disbelieving smile from the man. She was finally defending herself, he thought.

"My point still stands, Mia. Take Lydia with you." He pressed on, "Surely, you don't want to neglect my gift.." If anything would do it, that would. When he saw the light come to her eyes then, he knew he'd won. He leaned back in his throne victoriously, continuing to stare at the defenseless Dragonborn in front of him.

"I will leave tomorrow morning, then - with Lydia." She said.

Her eyes always reflected her emotions, that much was true. Add that to the wisdom that he had accumulated over the years from dealing with nobility, and she became completely readable, her words and expressions transparent like the thinnest of glass. When they were together, her often trembling voice and unsteady eyes revealed to him that she merely wanted to impress him, to satisfy him. If it were somehow possible to tell her that this was not necessary, he would, but he could not shake the warm feeling her affection gave him. It was something new entirely. And at his age, new things were hard to find.

That afternoon when he retired to his chambers, he heard her putting gold into a pouch, and storing rations of food in her pack. Surely she would take a carriage, as she normally did, so why did she need rations of food if she had access to the inns that dotted the roads of Skyrim? He overheard them having a disagreement in the bedroom, and he wondered why Lydia would even bother retorting to her Thane, the person who gave her orders.

"My Thane, please, there will only be a modest fee involved in the carriage drive up there." Lydia tried to reason.

"M-modest fee? Bjorlam always charges a hefty fee to get to the northern holds! He says it's too freezing, and his horses require extra feeding in the cold." Mia argued. He heard the nervous tremble return to her voice then, and shook his head.

"That's a sham, and you should know that, my Thane. Why not just stand up to the oaf? If you want me to, I can show him why he should regret scamming Whiterun's Thane." The Nord woman threatened. He chuckled at the ferocity of the Housecarl, and was suddenly glad that he chose this woman to protect the Dragonborn.

"Do you see how large he is compared to me? He'd tear me in half with that axe he carries on his waist!" She defended.

"I'd like to see him try." Lydia hissed in reply.

The conversation froze then, not picking up again. Throughout the halls, one could hear the Imperial mage scuffling about, no doubt collecting some things for her trip. The days in Skyrim were growing shorter, thus they'd likely be leaving quite early on in the morning. He could hear her light footsteps pacing delicately back and forth. Then, a thud that signified her departure to bed. The door to her room closed, and he could hear her housecarl blow out the candles.

It was becoming more common for Balgruuf to have sleepless nights. He was generally a firm disbeliever in regretting, but he couldn't shake the feeling that his decision in siding with the Empire may have fueled an early Second Great War. His Nord values prevented him from feeling sympathy towards the thousands of Stormcloaks who died fighting for Skyrim, even though many of them he had known personally and had fought alongside during the Great War. He reminded himself that there was no better way to bring peace to his hold, or to Skyrim, than siding with the Empire, and General Tullius. But this would be far behind he and his fellow Jarls for awhile. For now, they would continue living in the calm of the storm, which would give Skyrim and the Empire enough time to recover from their losses during the Civil War.

The new talk of Skyrim was its new High King, who was slowly settling into his place in Solitude. Many Nords were relieved when the majority of the Empire's militia withdrew from their homeland, and when the Emperor finally declared peace between the provinces, allowing for General Tullius, along with Commander Maro and his Penitus Oculatus, to finally go home. It was taking months for Windhelm to be rebuilt, as it was partially ruined during the siege. Nothing was close to being normal again, but there was finally peace. One would think that as Jarl of Whiterun, post-war would've eased his mind. It did not. There was still the threats of dragons, and their infamy was growing with each passing day. They were starting to once again become the Nordic beast of legend. Although the Nords were a stubborn lot, and slow to change, many accepted that their focus should be shifted to the skies, where another, more important war festered.

He had forgotten that his feet were taking him to the large balcony of Dragonsreach, until he could see his breath rising in the frosty air. It was very chilly, even for a Nord like himself. But it was tolerable, and so he looked upon the plains of Whiterun as he often did during his freetime nowadays. With the absence of war, life for him began slowing down. For the first time in his life, he felt old. Unlike most men his age, he had no desire for youth. He would continue to rule and protect Whiterun until he took his place in Sovngarde. The great door opened and closed abruptly behind him. He did not need to turn around to know who it was, he had become familiar with the sound of her light boots shuffling on the floor.

As her presence timidly grew closer to his, he caught the scent of lavender, the scent of the soap that she used. Against his wishes, he breathed in the pleasant, yet mild scent of lavender. He felt slightly inappropriate at the action, knowing fully well why. She placed her elbows along the stone wall of the balcony, leaning forward for the ancient stone to support her weight. Her dark eyes searched the skies, her gaze wandering to a destination that was millions of miles away. She looked as if she carried the world over her small shoulders.

An uncomfortable silence stretched over them then. Uncomfortable for both of them, Mia because of her obvious attraction to the older man, and Balgruuf for the lack of desire to stop her pursuit. Though it wouldn't be too fair to call it that, given her age and inexperience. She was not wearing her usual attire made of tunics and trousers, they were replaced with a long nightgown, that left vast exposure to her small bosom. The fabric was not of the common, Nordic flax, it was of an Imperial cotton. He rarely saw her in this, as her modesty generally prevented her from leaving her quarters in such attire. This was not Cyrodiil, however, and proper customs and mannerisms were few. A mass of fur was draped around her shoulders, only halfway managing to shield her from the cold. Her teeth chattered however, but she did not complain. If not for her height and warm exterior, she could pass for a citizen of Skyrim.

"Skyrim becomes you, Dragonborn." He said from beside her. Realizing his statement as a compliment, she smiled weakly, and lowered her lashes.

"I never once imagined I'd be wearing fur over my shoulders, looking out across the plains of this province. No, I- I imagined I'd be somewhere in High Rock by now, studying for the College of Whispers, or maybe even the Synod. Skyrim never even crossed my mind until that day I chose to go near the border. I always saw it as a formidable wasteland, and heard tales of its inhabitants being massive, troll-slaying, mead-drinking men. I was not wrong, I still don't think I was wrong.." She trailed off, the courage she had found to speak slowly faltering.

"You have changed since you came to Dragonsreach that day, the day we learned of Helgen. You are still kind, Dragonborn, but your days in this land are hardening you, and will continue to do so. Skyrim.. Well, it changes people. It inspires the soft and cowardly to find strength and purpose." He assured her.

She looked to him, their eyes locking momentarily, then back to the cloak of darkness that spanned across the horizon. The only source of light in the sky were the auroras far beyond the Throat of the World. A small smile of contentment crossed her face then, a moment of clarity in an otherwise tense time. For once, it looked as if she saw this land as her home.

"You may be right, my Jarl. I.. I do hope you're right. But I've seen him, I've seen his black wings, and his glowing eyes. He means to devour us all." She claimed. He wasn't denying her honesty, but it was still hard to believe.

"I don't doubt Alduin's existence. But how could you know it was him?" He asked.

She breathed deeply, her brow furrowing in disappointment and sorrow. "I don't exactly have hard proof. The Greybeards tell me nothing, the Blades tell me that dragons are being _resurrected_ from the dead. I don't know of anyone, or anything, else that would wish or have, the ability to resurrect the souls and bodies of departed _dovah_." She did not commonly utter the guttural speech of the _dov_.

"I have been Jarl of this hold for many years now. I've managed to keep and protect my people, to bring further prosper to my city, and have never failed to defend my gates. With good leadership, and unity, one can achieve great victories. I've never felt vulnerable of myself or my people in my life - until now. Nords do not fear as the other races do, the majority of us accept our place and fate in this world. But the idea of Alduin, the dragon that my ancestors fought so long ago.. _That_ , is enough to make any Nord shiver under his mother's skirts. The idea of our honored dead becoming play things for Alduin in their afterlife, there is no greater defilement to our culture." He explained. He did not bother to hide the fear in his voice, there was no need for it. Before long, every living being from Thras to Akavir would be chanting prayers to their gods.

Unless the Dragonborn really could prevail, and prove to be the hero of legend. He was proud of her for gaining the courage she needed to continue on her path.

"I know I said I'd return after this excavation, but after that.. I'm going to be gone for awhile. I need answers, proof.. Information of what I'm dealing with. I don't know where exactly I will go.. I'll probably start at the college, then I'll go elsewhere, to Delphine and Esbern." She turned to face him, her breath visible in the air.

Begrudgingly, he met her gaze, and shifted to face her. His expression softened at her inquisitive gaze. Her dark eyes shone with curiosity and interest, but she did not dare to be the brazen one. Her gaze cast down abruptly, her eyes instead looking at the small flakes of snow that were now accumulating on the stone floor.

"Beautiful." She whispered quietly, just enough to be barely audible to his ears.

Without thinking, but not without hesitation, he brought his calloused hand to her chin, to lift her eyes to his. They stared for a long moment, her courage slightly faltering under his impenetrable gaze. He looked around to find that flurries were indeed falling from the sky. To him, a Nord, it was an honor to stand by Ysmir atop the peak of his hold. This was a moment of pride for the beauty of his homeland. His gaze turned back to her.

"Aye, that it is. Are you not cold? Imperials don't take to the cold very well. Proventus makes everyone aware of that." He joked.

She laughed prettily, and gave an equally light-hearted reply. "That's not surprising, but I don't think he'd find it as funny as we do." It was his turn to reveal a grin, and her normally rigid exterior softened somewhat.

"No, lass. No, he wouldn't." He said lightly.

He knew it was dangerous to venture into this territory with people who were certainly marked for death. However, Balgruuf believed in her in this aspect. He believed that she could step up to the task and stand against her foe. But it wasn't this he was afraid of, he was afraid of caring for her. Every good Jarl cared for his people, it's true - but he could sense it was becoming something more for her, and for himself also. It was only natural, for a man his age, in his position, who had been alone for years. Be it her youth or otherwise, he liked her. Too much.

She changed the subject then, surprisingly, "They talk about the Thalmor often now. Why?"

"They do." He paused. "Wars don't end simply by putting a sword to a rebel's neck. _That_ war was only the beginning. Now, is the calm before the storm. The Jarls don't discuss it among one another, but you'll hear members of courts discussing it openly. Senseless, all of them. The Thalmor intend on ruling eventually. Why else would they want the Empire to surrender? Everyone knows it by now. But there are spies everywhere, and plenty of people who would love to have your head. Don't let officials hear you talking against or about the Thalmor."

"People who would want my head?" She asked, clueless. She nodded, realizing then that he was talking about the Thalmor Embassy, and her part in the chaos there.

"They're merciless when they want someone. What you did at their embassy was an insult to them. Do you think the Thalmor are an organization that take lightly to humiliation?" He questioned her, to which she shook her head to answer no. "No, they don't. And within a few months, everyone in Skyrim will know the Dragonborn is a woman, and soon after they'll know you're an Imperial. I can't stress to you how important it is to be safe out there, Mia."

"I have Lydia at my side. I'm not a good judge of fighting, but I've never seen a fiercer woman than her, my Jarl." She told him.

"You best sleep, hmm? You'll need to leave early in the morning - the days are growing shorter with every minute. Even here, in Whiterun." He said. She looked at him in his eyes then, her brown eyes, while normally glum, had a coy gleam to them.

"I will, my Jarl. I hope you find the time to rest. I promise to write to you if something prevents me from coming to you." She nodded her head to him, in a semi-bow.

And abruptly, she took his left hand in hers, and leaned forward to plant a light peck atop his long fingers. It wasn't a common gesture, not in this province. It was reserved for the counts and dukes of the south. It was an intimate moment, though, the first the two had shared. Even in the darkness, he could see the pretty, light red color that adorned her upper cheeks. To his surprise, her brown eyes met his own. Her lashes swept over her eyes then, hooding them from his gaze. The moment was brief, and too soon did she turn her back to go back inside, probably ashamed and embarrassed of her actions. He gazed at his hand then, and back to the closed door she had left through.

He had never thought about her intimately until now. The sight of her bending to place a kiss on his fingers had warmed his blood more than he'd like to admit. He was much older than her, and a Jarl on top of that, but he was still a man. A man who hadn't had the company of a woman for what seemed like ages. Of course, he didn't dare think about acting on it, she was far too young, and far too inexperienced. The whole situation felt wrong, to him. His attraction to the Dragonborn was prompt and new, as he had never given much thought about it until a few moments ago. Running his palm along his face, he sighed, closing his eyes and eventually returning inside where there was warmth.

* * *

When he woke early in the morning, she was leaving. Snow was falling heavy now, meaning the road to Winterhold would be treacherous and harsh for the small Imperial. He was standing outside, admiring the splendor, while watching her leave. She looked up at him, to his place on the side balcony of Dragonsreach. He gave her the best smile he could muster, accompanied by a deep nod of his golden head. She returned the smile, keeping her grin while turning to look ahead of her. She pulled her hood over her face, obscuring her in its fabric. He watched her until she was near the tree in the midst of his city, until he could no longer see her.

He frowned to himself, though. In the beginning, he hardly blinked an eye at her actions or decisions. Now, however, he worried for her safety. He worried for her.


	8. Chapter 8

She'd been gone for quite some time now. A bit over a month, if he was correct. He did receive one letter from her, but that was over a fortnight ago. When he thought of her, he thought of the intimate moment they shared on the balcony of his home. She'd been so nervous to perform such a tiny action, but it meant a lot to him. Balgruuf was not a sentimental man, it wasn't often that he ruminated on relationships with others. His relationship with his hold was always the most important, and still is.

He envied her, in a way. She was youthful, attractive, and free to roam and do what she liked. He remembered his years travelling his homeland, when he was no older than sixteen. He learned how to properly swing an ax that year, and had carried one since. He often dreamed of making the pilgrimage to High Hrothgar once again, but his position came first, as always. Ruling had once seemed a very good alternative to being homeless, and it still was. When his father died, he inherited the hold, which put an indefinite stop to his adventures at an early age. While his brother, Hrongar, was out hunting boar and lying with whores, he was ruling from Dragonsreach. However, as he told Mia, Nords accept their fate in this world like no other, and Balgruuf was no different.

Balgruuf sighed as he looked at the document that was doubtless sent by Elenwen. It was a dossier on one "Malborn".

 _Malborn is considered an accomplice to a great crime committed against the Thalmor. Although he is no great threat, any information on his whereabouts will be rewarded generously. He is of Eastern Valenwood heritage, stands at 5'4", and can be easily spotted by his bright auburn hair. He was last seen heading east, toward Windhelm. It is predicted that he plans to continue East, to Morrowind, for refuge. Anyone who knows of his whereabouts and refuses to cooperate accordingly will be considered an accomplice to this crime, and will be prosecuted by Imperial law._

No doubt it was the Bosmer that Mia had mentioned. If he was right, then the bastard's life was in great jeopardy. It surprised him that he had not yet seen a dossier on Mia as of yet. Of course, Mia usually went unnoticed, as her kind were not considered great beauties by elven standards. Even at the coronation of the late High King, Elenwen had given her pleasantries but she had no great love or regard for Nordic customs. He supposed this was an advantage for Mia, as it could very well save her life from being forfeit.

"Enough. I didn't summon you here so that we could talk about the dead king of Windhelm. How long's he been dead now, a year? He is history, his _Stormcloaks_ are history. They're nothing without their leader. They live in his shadow now, they don't even have 2,000 men. Tullius saw to that before he left." Hrongar argued with Proventus, pointing at the Imperial with a chicken leg.

"My lords, a small band of guards from Rorrikstead were ambushed in the night by a rambunctious band of rebels. Only one made it out alive. Those rebels are still out there, planning Arkay knows what." The Imperial hissed back.

"While I hate to admit it, Proventus is probably right, Hrongar. I will send a scout to the area they were ambushed and see how many of these Stormcloaks are there, and if it's worth sending a party out to. With your permission, my Jarl." Jenassa respectfully looked to Balgruuf, his only response was a slow nod.

He was growing tired of war, he had seen too much of it in his life. The Great War, the ever ongoing Forsworn Rebellion, the Stormcloak Rebellion, he believed it would be over for a few years before anything else of importance happened. And now there was this. His hold's men were being openly attacked by a group of Stormcloaks. And for what? Pointless murder that would never turn out good for either of them?

"They do it for justice, I can understand that. But why do it at all? It's not as if they can lay siege to us and hope to one day become the force they once were." Proventus reasoned.

"There is often a thin, and very breakable line between revenge and justice. What these Stormcloaks did, they did out of vengeance, an emotion that we Nords feel deeper than most. For that, I can sympathize with them. But we should be smart about this. If the Thalmor know that we're aware of the Stormcloak threat, albeit a small threat, they'll believe we're sympathizers for not informing them. I think it is wise that a letter is sent to Elenwen informing her of it, and also, that we can handle it. The last thing we need is Thalmor justiciars garrisoned in our halls." Hrongar cautioned, looking to his older brother for approval.

"Hrongar is right, you two. We can't afford to lose men, but we also can't afford to have the Thalmor take advantage of this weakness. They'll see an opportunity to send justiciars and soldiers, and that would mean every Talos worshiper still in this city would be in danger. Our Dragonborn would be in danger for her heritage and her ties to the College. Whiterun would be significantly weakened. I would ask that you spoke to no one about this, not even your families, or your spouses. Keep this between us. Hrongar, I would have you go to Rorrikstead and investigate this, we can't afford to let anyone know about this, let alone start a panic over what is most likely an isolated incident." Balgruuf said.

"If that's your wish, brother, I will go at first light. I'll see what these rebels are up to." They finished their dinner in silence after that, neither of them having the urge to speak to one another.

It was a rare enough thing for Proventus to urge confrontation with anything, as he often preferred the pacifist way. It was even more rare for Hrongar to urge non-confrontation and send another in his place. When dinner was just nearly finished, the doors to Dragonsreach opened, signalling the Dragonborn's approach, her Housecarl not far behind. She nodded curtly to the feasting men and women of the hall.

"My lords." She said respectfully as she swept past them before they got a chance to speak with her.

"If it isn't my least favorite Imperial, seconded by Proventus, of course." Jenassa commented when Mia was out of earshot.

"Play nice, my friend. She is an important woman, her life will always be in danger, we must protect her." Hrongar defended, to Balgruuf's surprise since he knew that Hrongar was not overly fond of the girl.

"Please." Jenassa crossed her arms, "She is barely a woman. Too afraid of confronting her own problems, too small and too weak to be the protector of Skyrim. If what you Nords believe to be true about her, that she truly is this Dragonborn of legend, the Divines were cruel for picking such a champion."

"Quiet, Jenassa. We'll not speak of it here while we are hosting her in our hall. This is her home as well." Balgruuf said.

But the Dunmer did have a point. The Divines were cruel indeed for picking such a champion. A mere slip of a woman, with the physical strength of any magical user, which was not saying much. She had little to no muscle mass on her body, and he doubted she had ever lifted a sword in her short life. But she was chosen, for reasons mortals will never understand, for a great and divine quest. Only the Gods knew why she was chosen, and only the Gods knew what was planned for her.

Proventus coughed into his fist, and said his pleasantries, his wife following afterward. The two retired from dinner first, with the rest following. Balgruuf sent a servant to take food to Mia and her housecarl, as they surely hadn't eaten much while they were returning to Whiterun. As Balgruuf knew of her Imperial heritage and their great love for wine, he insisted on bringing her wine instead of mead. Proventus often kept crates of wine for he and his wife, as the appreciation for mead was often lost on anyone who wasn't Nord.

He met with his brother in his chambers later that night. While he never enjoyed political or military intrigue, being a citizen of the Empire and a jarl of one of Skyrim's wealthiest holds meant dealing with tension often. The Jarls of other holds were often not friendly with one another, as each hold had different culture and political ideologies. It was well-known that Skyrim would not be free from Stormcloak sympathy for awhile, and it shouldn't have come to a surprise to anyone that there were still pockets of Nords still devoted to their cause. It was only a matter of time before the Thalmor would either take action against the Empire, or the Nords would start another revolt, Balgruuf gave it five years for either one to begin.

The Thalmor still hadn't forgiven Skyrim for what had happened at the Thalmor Embassy, and taxes in Solitude and to the East Empire Trading Company would only rise from here. Briefly, he thought of Mia, and her fate if the Thalmor discovered who she was and of her whereabouts. A quick shot of panic went through him then, reminding him of the discontent one often feels when responsible for thousands of lives. Surprisingly, he thought of her the most in this scenario. The Thalmor could be cruel masters, and openly tortured those who hoodwinked them.

"This stays between you and I, brother, you understand me?" Hrongar nodded, gesturing for his brother to continue with what he was trying to say, "The Thalmor can't come to this city, and we must do whatever is in our power to prevent them from doing so. The Dragonborn humiliated them a few months ago, at their Embassy, they'll recognize her as soon as they see her here. They already know the Blades are involved. They already have a lead on one of them, how long before they catch him and torture him until he spits her name out? We need to protect her, she is very important in the war to come. The _real_ war, brother."

A knock on his chambers interrupted them then, Hrongar's voice called out to the intruder, "Who is it?"

"Mia, my lord." The feminine voice answered, he looked to Balgruuf and took his leave from his chambers then.

"Come on in, girl." His voice called her in, "Close the door behind you."

She did as he instructed, and quietly sat before him at the small table by a large fireplace. He couldn't recall her ever visiting him here, and was surprised that she came to him this late in the evening. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept in a couple nights, and he wisely guessed that she hadn't. It was too cold to set up camp while travelling at this time of the year, especially in this hold, where mountainous caves were scarce, and where there weren't enough trees to start campfires.

"How was your journey? Did you make it here without too much conflict on the road?" Was his question to her.

"Yes, my Jarl. Not too much conflict, just a couple bribers on the road in the north, but I managed to talk them out of it. But other than that, it was safe. And.." She paused, seemingly looking for her next words. "Thank you for sending me dinner. I was starving."

He looked down at her stomach, observing her health all over. There was a couple unexplained bruises here and there, mostly on what he could see of her limbs. None of them were too dark, and they would heal within the next few days. He realized he hadn't responded to her thanking him, but found himself at a loss of words, most likely due to stress.

"Is it difficult? Feeding your people and yourself at this time of year? The middle of winter?" She curiously asked. Mia had never shown much interest in politics, nor had she ever shown concern for Skyrim's people, _her_ people now.

"Not in this part of Skyrim. Our larders stay well-provided for throughout the year. Plenty of farmers, and fresh game, in this hold. This is the safest city for a siege, or otherwise." He told her.

"I had never really seen snow, until I came here. It flurried occasionally, in parts of Cyrodiil. And I hear that in the winter, Bruma is no stranger to heavy snowfall." She explained.

"Flurried?" He questioned her with honest curiosity.

"Light snow, my lord." She answered.

He chuckled at the sound of the word, he'd never heard its use before. "Flurries, then. Of obvious Imperial origin."

"Yes, my lord." She chuckled lightly with him, a whimsical sound - he found that he liked it. He rarely saw her carefree and in this state, with an honest smile painted on her face.

"Do you like mead?" He asked her then, about to pour a cup for himself.

"Situationally." She answered politely.

"Wine it is then." He laughed to himself, standing up from his chair to find a vintage from the Imperial province.

He poured two goblets for them, setting the bottle down in a place where he could easily refill them. She took the goblet graciously, a half-smile still on her face. She sipped the wine, her tongue innocently caressing her bottom lip to lick a droplet off. He tried not to stare for too long, as not to offend or invite any advances. If she noticed, she didn't say anything. He knew it wasn't appropriate, showing favoritism to one of his subject's.

"This is Surille, is it not?" She looked to him with question, her cheeks showing warmth from the alcohol.

"While you know your Imperial wines, I'm afraid I do not. This is one matter I'm terribly versed in. Nords don't normally drink wine, it's too expensive up here. And the wine made in The Reach is made of Jazbay, so you can imagine it's not too generous to your tastebuds." The wine tasted good, as Imperials had mastered the art of winemaking, and even a Nord like himself could appreciate the thick, full-flavored liquid.

Out of curiosity, she turned the bottle with her hand, eyeing the make and the name on it. Victoriously, she leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs under the table. For a moment, she looked so small, her dainty hands lightly wrapped around her drink. She looked every inch the elegant Imperial that she was. She was beautiful, truly a novelty among the rugged and brutish features of the Nords. There was a lot of frailty in her body, but every time he saw her she looked more purposeful, and with that - stronger. She was still quiet, and very reserved, but she was no longer as afraid of her destiny as she was a year ago.

"Surille Wine, Third Era, 432. It's like drinking the Oblivion Crisis in a goblet." She laughed at her own joke, and he was at a loss for words once again. "My Jarl, are you alright?" She was becoming emboldened by the alcohol, her hand lightly grazing over to his own, concern in her dark eyes.

"Yes, I'm just tired, sweet girl." She didn't move her hand from his, her eyes searching his face for approval. As much as he wanted to tell her to remove herself, he couldn't find the words to do so.

"Oh." She said demurely, withdrawing her hand, looking down at where it once way. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, you can stay for awhile." He said, regretting the harsh edge in his voice. It was clear that she didn't believe him then, her eyes searching for any clue regarding his honesty. "I want you to."

He refilled his goblet then, silently asking for approval to fill her own. Small talk over wine was most likely nothing new for her, and it was likely that she wouldn't interpret his actions as inappropriate. He knew of the adoration she had for him, it was obvious in her large eyes that gazed at him admirably. He never stared too long at her, but now he was looking at her - and again he found her beautiful. While the women of Skyrim were tall, broad, and buxom, she was neither of these things. Her features could be considered plain by Imperial standards, but they were foreign to his own. Once, he found her build to be haggard and almost waif-like, but now he saw it as slender and elegant.

Then there was her youth, among the many things that kept him from acting on his feelings for her. She was too young. _Or you're too old_ , a voice in his head told him. He watched her as she drank, sip after sip, intoxication prevalent in the way she looked around the room with interest, taking in the surroundings in a hazy manner. She looked back at him, a toothy smile on her face and he couldn't help but return it. The joy she emanated couldn't help but spread itself to him. She giggled girlishly, tucking a dark strand behind her ear coyly.

"How old are you?" He asked her, the question seemingly out of nowhere to the girl.

"Nineteen, my Jarl. I.. thought I told you at some point." She answered.

"I must've forgotten then." Was his reply, looking almost ashamed, to his hands. "I'm getting old." He sighed.

"You don't look _that_ old. I mean.. You look _older_ , but.." She trailed off at the end of her sentence. Mirth found its way to his eyes though, at her shy comment that seemed adorable to his ears.

"You're calling me old? A treasonous statement to your Jarl." He joked, a real laugh coming out of him for the first time in a long time.

The wine was unwinding him now, feeling his belly with warmth and the promise of happiness. It had been too long since he had drank for this purpose. His obligations to court, and his own unwillingness to relax.

"I hope you aren't angry with me but.. I heard your conversation with Hrongar.. And I can only be filled with regret and sadness that I have involved you in a dangerous affair. I should've never told you about the Embassy, and now you have yet another one of my burdens to bear." She said to him sadly, the joy in her eyes all but lost with this admission.

"You came to us with the news in Helgen over a year ago. _You_ came to us first, before anyone, because you saw the lives that were lost. You left, as most would, and abandoned your destiny, another thing that most would do. But you came back, you knew you had a responsibility, and you chose to do the right thing. Now I am choosing the right thing, by taking care of you and allowing you to stay here. You burden me with something small, while the entire world burdens you with the fate of every life in Tamriel." He said to her, she looked shocked at his admission, and there was a hint of that same admiration again. "You've become responsible, Mia. You're not the same girl that walked in here a year ago. You've grown." He observed aloud.

She looked at him almost lovingly at the observation, a shy smile resting on her face. She crossed her arms on the table, her chin resting in the middle of her crossed limbs. She looked up at him, almost like she expected him to say or do something. He returned her stare, but his eyes didn't show the same emotion as hers. _Hesitance_ , was all that was etched into his features then.

Knowing that sooner or later it would happen, he pulled on her arms lightly, signalling her over to him. He shifted in his chair, her form standing dangerously close to him between his open legs. He studied her for a moment, her arms still in his hands. His eyes went over the yellowing bruises on her wrist, trailing up to the mossy green of her silks - a fabric common among mages, but again, not in this province. He stared deeply into her eyes, a part of him hoping it would intimidate her enough to make her shy away - but this failed. In none of his days, would he have forsaw her initiating what happened next. Pulling her small arms out of his hands, she rested her digits on his jaw, her gaze still not meeting his eyes - most likely out of fear. If she was intimidated, she did not show it through her actions.

She toyed with the thick hair on his chin and his jaw, the texture seemingly unfamiliar to her. It came across him then that she had likely never touched a man before. This filled him with a feeling of masculine pride but also a hint of remorse. She leaned in, her breath hitching as she closed the gap between their mouths. Her lips tasted like wine, her movements were unpracticed but it was endearing to him.

He met her gently at first, his larger hands instinctively reaching for her small waist as his head tilted slightly upwards to meet her lips fully. He couldn't suppress the urge to touch her anymore, at least, not in this state. He couldn't bring himself to care much about the consequences of his relationship with the girl. It was not as if it was forbidden or illegal, but it sat uncomfortably heavy in his heart nonetheless. He did not know if he could bring himself to bed her, but in this moment it was all he wanted. It had been too long since he had felt the warmth of a woman, and he forgot how loving their presence could be.

He stood from his chair, his arms never leaving her waist as he leaned down to meet her lips. He led the playing now, his experienced touches overpowering her own inexperienced ones. It was he who ceased the kiss however, pulling back slightly so that there faces were still nearly on the verge of touching.

"Have you ever been with a man before?" Even in his slight inebriation, he kept his concern for her still and didn't let his own desires overpower it.

"No, my lord.." She shook her head, her panting breath warm on his face.

"I won't take you to bed." He paused, searching for the right words, "Not unless you tell me you want to. I won't take advantage of you in this state."

"I want to. I lo- admire you a lot, my lord. And I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have to do it." She replied in a small voice.

Her confession was reassuring enough for him, and sounded good coming out of her lips. Hesitantly, he closed the gap between the two of them once again. Except this time, one of his hands delicately held her face up to meet his. His hand was lost in the dark, curly mass that was her hair, as he took her bottom lip lightly between his teeth. She shivered involuntarily at the feeling of his tongue tracing her own, searching for approval, to which she gave by opening more. A small shriek left her lips as she felt his tongue enter between her lips, a sound that did not go unnoticed by the lower half of his body. He realized that his cock was already beginning to grow hard, for he hadn't touched someone like this in years.

With ease, he lifted her off of her feet, and onto the empty space on the table. He resumed his space near her, only this time placing light kisses below her mouth and onto her neck. Her fingers instinctively threaded through his hair, tugging lightly. He hadn't been with a virgin since he was a green boy, and he had forgotten the feeling of being with a woman that was unclaimed. The Nord in him wanted to claim something that was unexplored, and the man in him wanted to push her down and ride her until he was dry. But he couldn't treat her like his instincts wanted him to, he would have to be careful, his movements would need to be more restrained.

He didn't notice that his hips began to buck into hers involuntarily, and he cursed at the feeling of her warmth surrounding him. She whimpered beneath him at the no doubt unfamiliar and pleasurable feeling.

"You're okay with this, yes?" He whispered into her ear, her eager nod being his only reply.

He continued his ministrations then, every now and then sighing huskily at the feeling of her. He buried his head into her neck, the smell of wine, silk, and snowberries filling his nose. He smiled at the smell of her, no longer letting her age or her station effect his desires. There had been tension between the two for awhile now, and this was the more pleasing solution to it now. She bucked her hips slowly into his, enjoying the friction, all the while mewling at the unfamiliar feeling of a man on top of her.

"You are beautiful, Mia." He said in a husky voice, his mind and voice apparent with desire.

"Will you take me to bed?" She asked him in a quiet voice, his his hooded eyes looking down at her own that were staring up at him with purpose.

His only answer was snuffing out the candles that lit the room, only allowing a couple to remain lit. He wanted her to be comfortable, and he knew that she was insecure, and would most likely be shy regarding her body. Careful not to frighten her, he picked her up by her torso, and led her to the furs of his bed. She stared up at him then, her large and dark eyes filled with desire and wanton, and in that moment she had never been more beautiful to him. She began unfastening the laces that held her silk robe, the sleeves spilling around her shoulders. Reassuringly, he lifted his hands to pull the sleeves down, pulling the garment off her body carefully. All that remained of her clothing was her small, silken undergarments that barely hid the secrets they were meant to.

"You're sure this is what you want?" He questioned her one last time, before he pulled his overcoat off, the furs along with them. He was left with a woolen shirt, his pants the same Nordic fabric.

"You're handsome." She complimented, a small smile grazed his lips then, and he knew he couldn't have restrained it even if he wanted to.

He leaned down to meet her lips with his own, his fingers trailing down the goosebumps that dotted her stomach before landing beneath the opening of her thighs. He pulled back to look at her face, waiting for some kind of approval from her. There was none - instead, she put her hand over his own, an act that would normally be too brazen for her. She guided his fingers to the source of the warmth between her thighs. His fingers grazed over the outline of her nether lips, his cock hardening at the feeling of it. He began stroking then, his hand palming her warmth while he kissed her rougher than before.

Her hips bucked to meet his fingers, her arms going around his neck in the process. She held onto him then, and he had never felt more responsible for her than he did now. Knowing that it would be painful for her, he would do anything to minimize the negative feelings for her. With his fingers, he pulled her lower undergarments off, the silks trailing down her legs until they were left forgotten on the floor. His mouth replaced his palm then, his nose embedded into the curls above her womanhood. He could smell it, her arousal for him. The musky, yet sweet smell invaded his nostrils and without hesitating, his tongue escaped his lips and shot out to lick her own. She moaned then, a full and pleased sound to his ears. She moaned again as he repeated his action from before.

His tongue stroked the lips of her womanhood then, his hand adjusting his cock that was laying uncomfortable in his trousers. Her fingers curled in his hair, her hips beginning to buck underneath his mouth. He loved the taste of it, of her, and he knew then that he was beginning to be enamored with the girl. He saw her eyes closing, her lips parting for the sweet sounds to escape. He continued to lick and suckle the sweet spot that was between her legs, and she was becoming wetter with every moment. The sounds of his tongue stroking her combined with the noises that were coming out of her mouth were intoxicating to him.

Withdrawing from his spot between her thighs, he began to pull his restraining cloth off, the only sound in his chamber being the fabric that hit the floor, laying with her own. When the offending fabric was removed, he spoke to her, care apparent in his voice.

"There will be pain, Mia. You tell me to stop at anytime, and I will."

She nodded then, and his hands went to guide her arms around his shoulders. He parted her hips with his hands, and aligned himself with her entrance. He placed light kisses on the flesh of her neck and grunted at the feel of his cock coated in the juices of her womanhood. He entered then, regretting the pain that the girl beneath him felt. She shrieked painfully at the intrusion, but wrapped her legs around him just the same. He became lost in the feeling then, his cock parting the lips of her entrance and pushing itself in. He moaned then, a low and husky sound to her ears.

All she felt was pain - a burning pain that left tears in the corners of her eyes. She moaned painfully at the intrusion, and when he finally paused, she could finally feel all of him inside of her. At this he sighed, his head burying itself in her neck once again. He withdrew himself and entered again, slowly, and again, until he heard her whimper below him - this time a less painful sound. He began thrusting then, slowly at first. She was tight, her small form wrapped around his larger one. He withdrew his lips from her neck, wishing to instead watch the way her lips parted. He thrusted harder this time, causing her to tighten her arms around his broad shoulders.

When he was sure that she could make room for him, he began a rhythm. Her dark hair surrounded her head like a halo, the darkness of it contrasting with the white sheets of his bed. His cock was thrusting into her with experienced strokes, his lips meeting her own in a passionate battle. He realized that he loved the feeling of her, and that he hadn't felt close to someone like this in ages.

He wouldn't last long, he knew it. He felt almost like a youth again, as he thrust deep within her with eager strokes. His nose found its way into her hair as he moved quickly inside of her. His hands grabbed her hips and he enjoyed the feel of her soft skin while he grunted almost painfully at the desire gnawing at him. And before he could pull himself out of her body, he spent himself inside of her, pressing a kiss to her temples before pulling himself out of her. He poured wine for them, his body racked with the fatigue of their sex.

She smiled lazily up at him, while letting her eyes fall over his body. When he caught her gaze, her eyes faltered and she began fumbling with her hands. She looked like a girl again, and the pang of remorse hit him once again as he realized what he had just gotten himself into. Nonetheless, he rejoined her on the bed, handing her a goblet of wine to which she eagerly took from his hands.

"Thank you." She said demurely. "Do you want me to leave now?"

"I don't _want_ you to leave, Mia. I won't tell you to either. You can stay with me until the morning, if you'd like." He should've told her to go, should've cut his attachments and responsibilities to her before he had made love to her. She loved him, he knew that, and love was a dangerous road to go down when it was with a person whose life would now and forever be at risk.

"I will stay then. Your bed is far more comfortable than my own.." Her eyes widened as she fumbled for words, "Not that I'm only staying because of the luxuries."

She brought her knees up to her chin just then, her unruly hair like a shadow upon her legs. The act was alluring and only added to her youthfulness. Perhaps that's why he liked her - because she made him feel more connected with his lost youth. It was true, young women were appealing to men his age, but he could feel deeply the need to protect her and care for her and knew it was not just a whim that made him take her on this night.

"Your beds are so different from ours, in the Imperial Province. There's usually straw in beds up here, but yours.. yours is feathers, I can tell. I haven't felt this in a long time. It feels like home." She said as her head sunk onto a pillow, her wine in one hand, every now and then she stopped to take a sip of the thick liquid.

"You're welcome to sleep in it, Mia." He told her, leaning back so that his flesh was nearly touching hers. "I worried for you, when you were gone. And after tonight, I feel that it will worry me even more when you go away again."

She touched him then, a light caress to the beard on his chin. "You shouldn't worry about me. You have an entire Hold to worry about. And, well.. Lydia takes care of me, I never go anywhere alone. I surround myself by people who can fight, because truthfully, I am very weak. I'm a mage, and I'm quite good with magic, one of the only things I _am_ good at. But, if I somehow fall in battle, you will be the first to know." She said in a mock reassuring tone, sadness on her features as she pondered her death.

He decided that he hated the sound of that, even more than he hated the sound of the Thalmor controlling Skyrim. If there came a time when he must cut ties with her, it would be difficult, but there was no going back to how things were before now. He knew she would never forget him now, and he the same. They sat in silence for a few moments afterward, until she yawned sleepily. He pulled the fur over them then, making sure she was covered. He placed a kiss on her forehead, and uttered the words,

"Sleep well, sweet girl."


End file.
